


Through The Looking Glass

by I_Gypsy_Queen



Category: The Killing
Genre: Blow Jobs, Eventual Sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-18 09:16:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3564299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Gypsy_Queen/pseuds/I_Gypsy_Queen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Original Female Character tumbles into the show world and stirs up all kinds of trouble for our two favorite sleuths. Spoilers to Finale of Season 3. Rated Explicit for later chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Tumble

I watch Linden's hand shake as she uncertainly fingers the trigger. I hold my breath. 

I've been marathoning "The Killing" on Netflix for almost an entire day and the tension of the third season finale has me dizzy. Skinner's eyes look pleadingly at her, begging her to kill him. My mind races with questions. Will Holder find her in time? Will Linden kill a man she loves in cold blood? Is this a two hour finale?

Suddenly, the room around me spins. My focus intensifies on Linden's shaking hand, willing her muscles to release their tension. I feel a rumble in my chest, an invisible chord connecting us through the screen and for a moment I feel almost insane. My conscious mind acknowledges that this is only a story, a FICTION, but somehow my heart ignores the thought. I feel as though she is my kin, my lover, my closest friend, so deep is my sympathy for her anguish. A tenderness sweeps through me unlike anything I have ever known. My chest feels heavy, my heart exceeds its limitations, and to my own horror, I faint. 

***********************************

I wake to the smell of wet earth and the crunch of fallen leaves. Things are moving on the ground around me and it takes me a few seconds to open my eyes. It is dark, the trees loom far above me blocking even the faint glow of the full moon. I hear whispers and wonder if this is some kind of dream, or if I hit my head on the coffee table and I'm still lying supine on my tiny apartment floor. My senses are assaulted from all directions and I have a hard time convincing myself something so vivid could just be a dream. Fear begins to take over as I realize someone must have taken me from my comfortable couch while I was unconscious and brought me to this secluded forest for a purpose. The bone-numbing cold is not the reason for my shiver. 

The whispers grow louder and the voices sound familiar, somehow. I strain my ears to make out what they are saying but remain motionless lest I give myself away. Two voices seem to be arguing in a heated debate, while a third pleads softly. Something about this is so recognizable and I can't seem to put my finger on it. I try to shift and get to my feet as quietly as I can. Whoever left me here must be coming back, and I need to be far away when that happens. 

I am already standing when the shot cracks its echo into the night. The scream that escapes my lips is involuntary and unwelcome. The forest falls silent and I slap my hand to my mouth to muffle any sounds of panic that may slither out. The voices have stopped and I am certain in a few minutes I will be found. I look blindly around and search for a way out, but all I see is darkness. Then, suddenly, I am blind. A bright light hits my corneas, my eyes water and shut immediately against the invasion. I want to run, but all I manage is to stumble.

"Over here!" I hear a man shout, and another beam of bright light flashes across me. I can't seem to open my eyes, and I trip as I make my way forward. 

I'm falling, certain I will crack my skull open on some rock, when two large hands clamp like shackles around my upper arms and keep me upright. I am almost thankful as I open my watery eyes to see whoever saved me, when my breath catches. 

Impossible, I think in shock. 

His fingers are massive and cold and the scent of cigarettes tickles my nose and awakens a long lost craving. I haven't smoked in three years. My brain is scrambling, trying to comprehend what's happening but I come up short. Who kidnaps someone from their own home and dumps them on a Hollywood set? 

"I-" I mumble, trying to think of how to start. 

"She saw us," a second voice comes from behind him and then I see her materialize from the gloom, her gun still smoking in her hand. I stupidly wonder if prop guns should be smoking. 

"And what the hell am I supposed to do about that?" His unique twang rolls of his tongue naturally, and I wonder why the actor has not dropped character yet. Clearly I've interrupted the shoot, why... 

A cold feeling washes over me when I see her raise her gun and point it at my chest. 

"Linden!" he cries, standing in front of me and tucking me behind his thin, junkie body. "What the hell, yo, you just gonna off everyone who comes your way, or what?" The panic is straining his voice and I feel like I've lost my mind. What's happening? 

"She saw us," is all Linden says, her gun hand unwavering. 

"I didn't see anything," I croak, peeking from behind Holder's back. "I won't say a thing."

"That's right you won't" he turns around menacingly, and I see a flash of steel in his hand, "if you know what's good for you." 

"We can't just leave her here." Linden's tone is flat, monotone and hard. "I don't care what she says." 

"Well I'm not dumping any more bodies tonight. One's my limit." 

"I'll do it myself!" She answers, taking two steps toward me. 

"Skinner had it coming!" I scream in a panic. I still don't understand exactly what's going on, but I know the setting and I know the game. So I play along. 

Holder and Linden turn to me with shock across their faces. In one fluid move, Holder has drawn his gun and it's cool barrel is pressing against my neck. His large fingers dig in my hair and hold me still as I feel his warm, cigarette tinted breath glide across my face. I feel the capillaries in my flesh burst and I know I'll have a circle bruise on my neck by the morning. That is, if I live that long. 

"You'd better start spilling your guts right now, snowflake," his voice is harsh and unyielding, "or I'll let my illustrious partner here splatter your brains all over the forest floor." 

I scramble, trying to fill in the gaps. How to I explain something I don't even understand? How do I tell them that one minute I was glued to my TV screen and the next I was IN it. How do I tell them they don't exist and everything they know is a story someone made up? They'd shoot me just for being crazy. Holder's hand tightens in my hair and for a moment I notice his mouth is only inches from mine in the darkness. I feel a heat somewhere low in my bowels, a desire to close that small gap. I try to reel myself in and concentrate on the fact that Holder's gun is still digging into my skin, rather than how much I'd like to taste him. 

"Well?" Linden pipes up, closing in with her weapon pointed at me. I wonder for a moment if the old story is true. If you die in a dream, do you ever wake up? 

"I-" I stumble, shaking in Holder's tight grasp. His hands are burning through my flesh, and I wonder how I can be aroused and terrified at the same time. I also wonder if Linden would shoot me if she knew what I was thinking. The two had clearly been partial to each other throughout the show, even if they had not yet acted on it. They had even come close to kissing, when Holder was mourning the young Bullet, but they had never sealed the deal. Their sexual tension, however, drove the show forward and kept fans like me riveted to our seats. I doubt she would be happy with the images currently taking root in my mind. 

"You keep saying that, snowflake," Holder grinds through his teeth. I can feel the feral energy emanating off him, seeping into my bones and I wonder again if I've lost my mind. Nothing makes sense anymore. 

"Holder, get out of the way," Linden barks, her gun hand still straight as an arrow and unflinching. In her eyes I see my own death through the darkness. 

"Just hold on a damn minute," he answers, his eyes glued to mine in the light of the flashlight. He scans my terrorized face, and I hear his breath hitch as his gaze rests on my lips. We are both frozen in the moment, holding our breath. For an instant I wildly think he'll kiss me, if it was a dream he surely would. Instead, his gaze hardens, and I quiver under its fury. "We're not killing her, Linden." 

Linden looks like she might argue, her trademark scowl etched across her freckled face. A warm, liquid-y pool of hope collects in my stomach when I hear Holder's words. They leave no room for argument. Linden remains silent. 

Holder's hand wraps around the back of my neck and drags me to my feet. I feel dizzy but I find a way to stand. My hand inadvertently presses against his warm chest as I try to balance. I hear his sharp intake of breath and wonder what he must think of me. Probably that I'm a lunatic, I think. 

"Get moving," he pushes me forward and I stumble a bit but keep to the circle of light from his flashlight and stay on my feet. 

"Where are you going?" Linden asks, as an afterthought. Knowing what I know about the show, she will most likely spend the rest of the night disposing of the body and any evidence she can. I feel no pity for James Skinner, but I do feel some for myself. I wonder if I will ever return to the life I know, or if this is it from now on. 

"To have a word with the snowflake. I need to decide if she can be trusted." 

"Be careful," she answers, her hazel eyes sparkling the meager light. I feel their tension again, the intensity that kept me coming back episode after episode. Instead of reveling in it, as I usually do, tonight I feel only a pang of jealousy. I mentally kick myself for it and try and focus on staying alive instead. 

"You worried about me, Linden?" A familiar cock-sure smirk flashes across his boyish face and I feel the heat stir inside me again. I must be crazy, I decide, why else am I turned on by a fictional character? 

"Just get going," she answers, but there is a smile in her eyes. 

Holder grabs me by the back of my collar and pushes me forward toward the dim lights of the car. I stumble blindly through the brush, and he saves me from a face-plant. His touch is heady, intoxicating, and I think I'm starting to get addicted to it. Just the brush of his fingers against the back of my neck is enough to make me shiver. We get to the car in ten minutes and in one minute more I'm stuffed unceremoniously into the front seat. I feel the cold steel a second before I hear the snap and the cuffs are around my wrists before I can say a word. 

"Is this really necessary?" I ask, my voice coming out harsher than I mean it to. 

A playful smile sprouts beneath his thin mustache, "I could shoot you instead." I swallow and remain silent. 

We drive for what feels like hours, down dark roads I don't recognize and through harshly lit city streets. I am vaguely aware the show is set in Seattle but I can't make out any distinguishing land marks. We drive in silence, but I steal glances at his strong profile whenever I can. I feel like a school girl but then again, I've never seen a fictional character in person. I suppose that makes him fiction no more. 

"You hungry?" He asks as he lights a cigarette and takes a deep drag. My mouth waters. 

"Can-" I tremble, but his eyes encourage me. "Can I have one?"

He looks with a smile at the last two cigarettes in his pack and pulls one to his lips. He lights it and I am mesmerized by the action and his innate grace. He places the lit cigarette in my mouth, the rough skin of his knuckles brushing against my lips. 

"Just like Linden," he shakes his head, "always stealing my smokes." 

"I haven't had one in three years," I remark, taking a deep drag and feeling the warmth of the smoke run through my limbs. My heart pounds even as I feel instantly more relaxed, and I remember why I had such a hard time quitting. 

"Well, you're in good company. Falling off the wagon is my specialty, snowflake."

"Oh," I answer without even thinking, "you've been clean for years though." My mouth clamps shut when I realize what I've said. Holder slams on the brakes and the car careens to the shoulder and a stop. Holder's gun is drawn before I have time to blink and I am actually starting to get annoyed. 

"For fuck's sake!" I shout, rubbing my elbow where I'd slammed it into the car door. The ghost of a smirk rushes across Holder's face, but it's soon replaced with mistrust. 

"Start talking, NOW!" This time there are no cutesy pet names, no playful banter, he's serious, and if I don't answer him... I shiver at the thought. Still, I realize the truth is not an option. He won't believe me anyway, and I'll have to lie eventually. So I go with the first thing that comes to my mind. 

"I knew Skinner." There, I have a beginning. The rest of the story would have to come out of thin air. Holder stares at me expectantly. 

"How?" he asks, his hand tightening on the trigger. 

"I've been following him for years, trying to prove what he was."

"How did you know?" 

"A few years back I fell on some hard times," the lie comes out smoothly, much to my surprise, "and I was living on the streets. I'm sure you know how it is." He gives the smallest of nods. "Skinner found me, he tried to-" I can't finish it. The lie tastes so ugly on my tongue, it feels like betraying every one of Skinner's victims. I try hard to remind myself that these are all fictional characters, but the feeling lingers. 

"You were a victim?" Holder's breath catches, his eyes scan me for any untruths. I remain motionless under his scrutiny. 

"Almost," is all I can answer. "He never got to finish the job." I let Holder make of that what he will. "So you see," I tried, "there's no reason for these cuffs. I'm never going to tell anyone." I leave a pregnant pause. "I'm glad he's dead."

Holder's gun hand wavers then falls. The cuffs stay on, however, and I wonder where all this is going. 

"I'm guessing you're not going to let me go," I say. It's not a question, but the thought of being his captive gives me a strange thrill, now that the immediate danger of being shot has dissipated. 

His eyes smolder as they took me in. "I'm not letting you out of my sight." 

The car roars into the night.


	2. Hunger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things heat up for Holder and his captive.

We step through the door and my unaccustomed eyes are suddenly assaulted by the bright light of the foyer. I blink away the blindness and let them adjust. 

Holder's apartment is small and crowded. The furniture is sparse and unassuming but every available surface is covered in files, books, takeout containers and papers. There is a pungent odor coming from the overflowing garbage can and I wrinkle my nose. 

"Welcome to my little Taj Mahal," Holder says haughtily, and I try to hide my look of disapproval. 

He unsnaps the cuffs from around one of my wrists and drags me to a chair near a mound of papers and trash that I can only assume is a table. Before I can protest, the cuff clicks and I am tethered to the armrest of the chair. I wonder at how little he is trying, I could easily lift the chair and run with it if I needed, or rip the arm rest off to gain freedom. 

He tosses the three bags of Thai food on the table and digs in without ceremony. I watch his exquisite mouth work and hear my stomach rumble. 

"You gonna help me, or what, snowflake?" I lunge for the food without further invitation and the first thing I come across are what look like egg rolls. I stuff half of one in my mouth in what I can imagine is an unpleasant way. He watches me carefully as we eat. 

"So you gonna tell me the real story," he asks, "or is this gonna be a long term thing?" I stop my masticating and look at him, weighing my options. I just need him to fall asleep and then I can find a way out of here and back to the world I know. How? I'm not sure, but sitting here certainly isn't the way to do it. 

"I already told you," I say, between mouthfuls of Pad Thai. 

"I know, lil mama. You told me a whole bunch of bullshit in every color and I don't believe a word of it. You're not going anywhere until I hear something I can believe." 

I remain silent. I've told my story and I'm sticking to it. 

"Fine, have it your way then." He finishes his food and leaves the bag and Styrofoam containers where they are. I again wrinkle my nose in disgust. "I need to clean all this up." A dark look comes over him as he points to his blood soaked clothes. Linden's choice now weighed on them both. "Don't do anything stupid." 

My heart starts hammering in my chest as he strips the gray hoodie from his back and drops his shirt on the floor near what I assume is a dirty clothes pile; hard to know for sure because there are clothing piles everywhere. My eyes roam hungrily over his form. He looks lean and cut like a ravenous wolf, angry scars documenting his time on the wild side. I see some that I remember from the show, but he catches me staring and I turn to hide a flaming blush. 

"You're welcome to look, snowflake, but you can't touch."

"Shut the fuck up," I hear myself say in a harsh tone I don't recognize. I look anywhere but at him, ashamed at having been caught staring. 

"Ooh, testy. You must've liked what you saw." 

He steps through a door with a swarthy smile and I hear the shower turn on. My face is hot from embarrassment and I feel the determination take root in my chest. I stand gingerly, afraid to make any noise and lean as far as I can to see if he hears me. I hear a humming and realize he's singing in the shower. What kind of man is this, I wonder. He's singing while washing another man's blood off. 

I lift the chair with one arm, careful to keep silent. He is still humming as I creep to the door. I wonder how I'm going to get through the opening quietly with a chair in tow, when my eyes catch the handle of a screwdriver sticking out from under some papers. I snatch it and start working on the armrest. It takes me two minutes flat to undo the four screws holding the wood together and my cuff comes lose. I don't have time to think, because I hear the shower turn off. It's now or never. 

My fingers are on the handle when something strikes me. I feel the full weight against me and in the next instant my head slams against the door. Holder's forearm is pressing my neck, shoving me into the groaning wood. 

"Thought you might try something," he grins ferociously, as I struggle. His body is tight against me, pushing my back into the door and my mind reels to realize he's completely naked. My eyes won't listen as they follow his strong musculature down to the defined v of his hips. I stare, open-mouthed at him and I see the haughty smirk on his lips. It gives me strength. I push against him with all my might and he's thrown backward. I turn to flee but I'm not fast enough. His hand grabs my hair and pulls me back to the floor. I'm trembling when he throws himself on me and pins my hands against the ground. I'm squirming, bucking, trying to throw him off, but all I can hear is his laughter. His sandy hair is dripping water all over me and he smells of soap and wonderful things. I'm so confused, my body rebelling against me and I feel a longing deep in my groin for something dangerous. 

"Get off me!" I cry, my struggles bringing our faces closer together and my desperation to a peak. His hand snakes around and suddenly both my wrists are trapped above my head. His now free hand wraps around my neck and squeezes just enough to make me uncomfortable. "Stop!" I cry, though I can feel myself getting wet. What's wrong with me? "Get off!"

"You keep squirming like that, snowflake, and I just might." I fall completely still. It's only when I stop struggling that I feel it, and a moment later, (damn my wandering eyes) I see it. There is a tension in his jaw and I follow the rigidity down to the junction between his thighs. He's hard as a ships mast and pressing against me in a scandalous way. My mouth becomes dry. "You gonna calm down?" he asks, though his voice is tight with restraint. 

"If you get the hell off of me, you pervert." I put as much disdain as I can manage into my voice, but it still comes out breathy. I'm trying to still my erratic heart but Holder's closeness is making it difficult. God, does he have to smell so good? 

I wonder where on his naked body he pulls the cuffs from but immediately one is wrapped around my wrist. He rolls me over face down with some minor difficulty and cuffs my hands behind my back. This time they're tight and unyielding. I am so physically aware of his body its making me ache. He lifts me as I've seen cops do in every Law and Order episode ever, and unceremoniously tosses me onto a nearby pile of trash I realize is a couch. 

"You should clean this damn place up," I spit, rabidly. 

"I didn't know I was having company."

"Well next time you decide to kidnap someone, at least have the decency to straighten up their prison." I am overexerted with adrenaline and my mind is spinning. Holder smiles a bit but keeps his sharp eyes on me. 

"You gonna make me tie you to the bed so I can get some shut eye?" he asks. My stomach does flips at the thought of being in his bed, but I reign myself in. My face is on fire and I'm very aware that he is still naked. His arousal seems to have faded a bit but not entirely and my damnable eyes continue to stray across his form. God, he's fuckable.

"Go to hell," is all I answer. 

"Already there." His answer stills me, and I see the energy drain from him in a wave. His eyes become clouded with grief and guilt and I feel an interminable sadness for him. I've fantasized about him so many times, thought about what it would be like to know, not the actor, but the character Stephen Holder in real life. Now that I'm faced with him in the flesh, I feel unequal to the task of understanding him. 

Holder crosses to me and I try not to stare at his nakedness. He wraps another set of larger cuffs he has produced from I don't know where, around my ankles. Trussed like a Thanksgiving Turkey, I see all hope of escape fade. He tosses a ratty blanket and pillow my way and turns off the light. 

"What are you going to do with me?" I ask, trying to keep the tremble from my voice. 

"Honestly," he answers softly, "I just don't know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tune in tomorrow to see what Holder decides to do with his captive and what Linden thinks of all this.


	3. Figuring Things Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holder heads to work and our girl tries to understand what's happening to her. When he comes home, things go downhill.

My slumber is deep and undisturbed. When I wake up, Holder is gone and I become aware of a clinking sound every time I move. I stand from the couch and knock a stack of papers to the floor. I see the cause of the sound. While I slept, Holder has tethered me to a support beam. There is a long chain leading down to my handcuffs which are connected to the shackles around my legs. I can move around the room and perhaps reach the bathroom but the front door is beyond the length of the chain. 

I grit my teeth in annoyance. I know I could scream, call someone to help me, but Holder has read me right. I won't scream. The worst place I could be right now is the police station, I would raise more questions than I could answer. I'm certain in this world, whatever it may be, I have no ID or record of ever being alive, and how could I explain any of that to the police? I can't even explain it to myself. 

I move around the room to relieve the stiffness in my joints. Holder's couch is the most uncomfortable thing I've ever slept on. I step gingerly around the obstacles littering the floor and wonder if his girlfriend Caroline, has ever seen his place. Certainly she would have done something about it. The thought of Holder's girlfriend brings back a rush of memories from last night. His strength, his naked body pressing me into the ground, the smell of him, all come flooding back and a warm glow rushes through me. I smile at the madness around me. 

My life has always been simple, and straightforward. An administrative assistant in a low paying job, I spend my time daydreaming, reading and writing between shifts. Yet since I can remember, nothing has ever quite moved me like an amazing story. When I read a good book, or watch a great show, I've always felt like I become a part of that world, heart and soul. Is it so crazy to think that I could? Crazy or not, it's happening and there is only one way I'll ever get out of these cuffs alive. And that way is to get Stephen Holder on my side. And to keep my hands off him. 

I can't be sure what will happen if I change anything by being in the story, but I read an episode synopsis of what comes next, and knowledge of the future can be a powerful weapon. I look around the room at the disaster and the decision forms in my mind. There is only one way I can get him to trust me, and lying to him isn't it.

I pick a spot and begin. 

**********************************************************************************************************

It's late by the time I hear the key in the lock. I hold my breath. 

Holder's hulking frame has to almost duck to fit through the door and his hands are again laden with bags of take out. I'm glad for that because with the meager supplies he was stocking his fridge and pantry with, I had no hope of creating an actual meal. I had eaten saltines and peanut butter for lunch and breakfast. 

"Wondered if you'd still be here when I got back, snowflake." There is a forced ease about his manner and I'm not fooled. Linden must have given him an ultimatum concerning my future, and clearly he's not very comfortable with it. It's only then that he sees the change in the apartment. 

"What the fuck?" he says, and the breath catches in my throat. The floor beneath all the trash had taken a while to discover but it was a lustrous cherry wood. After a little polish it shone like new. I had rearranged the furniture into a more reasonable and appealing formation and cleared all the rubbish from every surface. Holder's clothing was washed and piled neatly into his closet where I had found some old scented candles and given the room a fresh smell. "Where is all my stuff?" he asks, his eyes wide.

"You mean where is my trash?" I tease, keeping it light. I need him to trust me, I keep repeating to myself. "I think it's on the balcony of the guy under you. I couldn't leave so I threw all the trash out the bedroom window. Holder takes in every sparkling surface and his now immaculate kitchen, then his eyes return to me. He looks less pleased than I imagined.

"Where are all my papers? My files? Those were important." 

Does he think I'm an idiot? "They're in those filing cabinets you've been keeping empty. Organized by date and last name. Now at least you can find them if you need to."

"I could find them just fine before," he grumbles like a petulant child, but he hangs up his coat in the closet, instead of dumping it on the floor. I catch him sneaking a sniff of his fresh-scented clothes and a smile crosses his face that he quickly squelches. Clearly he had meant to come at me hard and ugly to find out who I am, but now this plan is fading. I'm glad to have thrown him off his game. He walks through the apartment, admiring things he probably hasn't seen in years and I feel the swell of pride for a job well done. "Why did you do this?" he asks, his eyes finally resting on mine. 

"What else was I going to do all day?" I say offhandedly, jiggling my chains. "Can I have a smoke?" 

"On the balcony," he answers, taking in another deep breath of the crisp scent of clean laundry and sweet smelling candles. He crosses to me and releases my legs and arms. With a wicked look in his eyes he cuffs my wrist to his, tethering us together. The image makes me shiver and I lick my lips. No, I think, these thoughts are dangerous. He's so close I can feel the heat emanating from his body. He places a cigarette in my mouth and lights it then takes one for himself. We smoke in silence for a few moments. 

"So what is all this Mary Poppins shit about?" he asks, his tone jovial but restrained. 

"Other than that I couldn't stand the smell anymore, you mean?" I don't look at his insulted expression but a smile tugs at my lips. After a few moments of silence I turn to him. His hazel eyes reflect the lights of the city as the soft wind swirls the smoke around us. In that moment I want him so much I have to physically stop myself from reaching for him. "I've decided to tell you the truth." There is a hefty lump blocking my throat and I swallow past it to take another drag of my smoke.

"Really?" he says, his gaze full of mocking suspicion. 

"It isn't going to make any sense to you," I warn. 

"Of course it isn't, snowflake. Why would it?"

"In fact it's going to sound downright crazy."

"You knowing how long I've been clean is downright crazy." He tosses the cigarette butt over the railing and lights another. "So you gonna spill or keep stalling?"

My throat goes dry and I try to compose myself and bend my features into the most trustworthy and sane expression I can. This is going to be a disaster. 

"I'm from a different world." I let the statement hang in the air and carefully examine his face. 

"Like from another country? You from Zimbabwe, snowflake?" I can tell that no part of him believes me, but I knew this would be an uphill battle. 

"I can prove it to you." My brain scrambles for the episode guide I remember reading and try to elaborate the three sentences into something real. 

"By all means, lil mama." He takes another deep drag of smoke and watches me with a playful smile. 

I take a deep breath and plunge. "Today you caught a case from a military school named St. George." 

Holder freezes, the cigarette halfway to his mouth, the cold steel of our tether seeming to grow hefty on my wrist. He remains silent. 

"Quadruple homicide. The fifth victim survived. He's currently your lead suspect." Holder's mouth drops open and his eyes grow wide with wonder. 

"How in the fuck could you know that?" A rigidity spreads through his limbs and I tremble a little. He is formidable when his feral anger is directed at you. "Who the hell are you?"

"I already told you."

He moves before I can blink. The next thing I know my arms are trapped to my side and his hand is around my neck, holding me against the balcony rail. I feel the breeze of cold wind across my perspiring back. My hand moves of its own accord, guided by a survival instinct and I wrap it around his wrist trying to pry him from my throat. "You better stop lying to me, and tell me the goddamn truth or I'll put you in the lake with Skinner and not think twice about it." His warm breath fans across my face and I wonder at my body's reaction. I should be in flight or fight mode, my life is being threatened directly. Instead, I'm staring into Holder's hazel eyes, mesmerized by the flecks of gold burning there. In his intensity, his mouth is so close to mine, his mustache tickles my upper lip. I suppress another shiver.

His hand tightens around my throat and arousal or not, by body panics and struggles. "Stop!" I cry, but the fury in his eyes will not be sated. "Your name is Stephen Holder!" I cry, in a panic. "You used to do meth and coke, but you've been in the program for years. You have a sister and two nephews! You have a girlfriend named Caroline!"

"There's plenty of ways you could know that, none of them prove your whacked-out point." His hand tightens and I fell my eyes bulge, he just might kill me this time. I scramble for something no one would know and it flies out of my mouth of its own accord. 

"You're in love with Sarah Linden!" His hand stops, and releases me just enough for blessed air to rush in again. 

"How-" 

He doesn't finish the statement and his mouth is so close to me a strong breeze could push me into a kiss. The longing to close that gap is so overwhelming it overpowers my senses. I don't think about the fact that he was just squeezing the life out of me, or that he left me chained in his apartment like an animal all day. All I can think about is that this could end as quickly as it began. I could wake up in the morning and find myself back in my ratty old apartment alone with Netflix asking if I'm still watching The Killing. Tomorrow he could be gone, back to being a two dimensional character on the screen. I can't afford to miss my chance. I don't want to. 

He's breathing fast, like an angry bull when I throw all caution to the wind and press my lips against his.


	4. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The actions of our heroine come with some dire (and entertaining) consequences. The St. George case is underway. Spoilers to first episodes of Season 4.

My lips burn from the contact like they've been branded with hot iron. I expect Holder to pull back, or push me so hard I tumble over the railing; I expect him to walk away, to yell, to do anything but what he does. It takes him a moment to realize what's happening, and by then my tongue has crudely invaded his mouth. I only know the desperation of wanting this so much. The idea that at any moment his reality could return to being on a two dimensional screen makes me reckless. He seems to like reckless. 

My tongue is greeted with a duel as it forces its way past his lips. His own, dashes and darts every which way in the fight. I'm acutely aware of his hands releasing my neck and grabbing hold of my hair instead. He angles me so he can get better access and I am assaulted with sensations. His hips are pressed tightly against mine, grinding his sizable erection into me. My own body reacts to it like a well trained dancer being led. I feel Holder's hand run down the front of my body, lingering over my breasts and stomach. 

A tornado takes root deep in my gut and I can barely remember my own name. Our tongues are locked in mortal combat, allied with teeth, lips and hands. Holder's fingers find my thighs and snake beneath them. Before I know it my legs are locked around his waist and he's holding me impossibly close; any closer and I would melt right into him. I utter a gasp of displeasure when is mouth leaves mine, to find my jaw and neck. I feel like I can't get close enough, and I press myself against him with all I have. His lips exact sweet torture on me, as they linger over ear and throat and collarbone. 

There is a frantic quality to our struggle, as though at any second the moment might be stolen from us. We're both reckless in our need, and I feel his hand dive under my flimsy shirt. My breasts are begging for his touch when he finally reaches them and his hair is gripped tightly in my hands. From the back of my mind a voice pleads caution, but I'm too far gone now to care. I want him to fill every inch of me, till we can't tell where one ends and the other begins. 

The air is suddenly cold around me and Holder is pressed into the wall on the opposite side of the balcony. We're both breathing like marathon runners and there's a look of incredulous shock on his face. I can clearly see he's hard, straining against the gold zipper of his loose-fitting jeans. The sight of him disheveled by my hands could bring me to my knees. His face is flushed, he's sweating and the wild, hungry look in his eyes blazes like a living flame. I know I need only say the word, make a move and he will return to finish what we started, but I can't make myself unfreeze. My body is locked in indecision, caught somewhere between need and reason. 

"What the hell?" he finally speaks, his mouth still suffering the aftereffects of my invasion, red and swollen by my kiss. "How-" he tries. "Why-"

He can't seem to get the words out right and I suddenly realize our hands are still tethered together. The closeness threatens to take me over again when I see him notice the same thing. He must be worried about what he will do because all caution is thrown to the wind and he unlocks my cuffs. He snatches his hand back as though I've burned him. 

"I'd like to say sorry," I say, my voice much firmer than I thought it could be right now, "but I'm not." 

Holder looks at me with wide eyes and I wonder what he will do next. Will he finish what I started? My stomach does flips at the thought. I feel the need of a junkie for my next fix, and I'm certain somewhere deep in my core that this will not be the last time I have Stephen Holder in my grasp. Not if I can help it. Holder's trembling hands fumble for his cigarette pack and he pulls out two before I can ask and it makes me smile. For the first time since the strange occurrences of last night I feel like I have a grasp on things. Stephen Holder wants me. Wants me so bad, he just forgot both his girlfriend and Sarah Linden, the woman who would eventually claim his heart.

Thoughts of Linden cloud my sunny mood and I file them away for later consideration. Holder hands me a cigarette and I make sure to run my hand against his fingers when I take it. He shivers but his eyes catch the glint in mine and a rebellious fury takes hold of him. 

"Is this some kind of manipulation thing, snowflake?" His voice is harsh and his breathing has returned to normal, though I can still see the outline of his erection against his jeans. "Is your tongue down my throat supposed to convince me that you're not completely insane?"

"Maybe," I answer, shooting him a smirk, "or maybe I just like kissing you." His stiffens again, and I realize I'm starting to enjoy having the upper hand in the situation for a change. "Are you actually going to start listening to what I have to say? Or do you prefer to just strangle me every two minutes?" 

His large hands flex as though they're considering it, but for once I am unafraid. His eyes scan over me and I feel naked under their heat. The thoughts burning inside him as he takes me in, would make any girl blush and they're etched across his face. 

"Alright, lil mama," he finally drawls, his familiar confidence rising to the surface in spurts, "then spill. And none of this other world bullshit either." 

"I AM from a different world," I begin, "a world where all of this," I point around the city, "is nothing more than a television show." Holder stares at me and then bursts into laughter. He laughs like I've never see on the show, with his whole body doubling over until the final few giggles are dispelled. It does him good to laugh, I see, and for that I'm glad, but my own temper is starting to peak. "Are you going to listen, or should we just go back to choking?" 

"No, no," he answers, stifling a new round of giggles, "tell me more, snowflake. So how did you get here from this mystical plane?"

"I don't know," I answer honestly, "I just woke up here."

"Just tumbled down the rabbit hole, huh?"

"Something like that." I wait for him to laugh again, but he takes me in with a quizzical look that turns to pity. 

"Okay, and what did the voices tell you to do in this world?" 

His patronizing sarcasm flares an anger in me I can't control. I'm not even aware that I'm crossing the balcony until I hear the sharp slap of my hand against his cheek. An ugly red mark blossoms over his skin where I've struck him and a fury takes over his eyes. His hand snaps around my wrist roughly and pulls me against him. 

"You want me to cuff you to the toilet all night?" he spits through his teeth, though we are once again so close it takes my breath away. He's not unaffected, but doesn't release me. 

"I'll stab you in your sleep," is all I answer, knowing its a futile threat I could never carry out anyway. He knows it too. "Fine," I tear my wrist from his grasp but don't step back, "I'll prove it to you." 

"What," he asks, "more obscure facts about my life? They aren't that convincing, snowflake." 

"No more facts. Just take me with you on your investigation tomorrow, and I'll show you." 

Holder releases another bark of laughter. "Yeah, I don't think Linden's gonna be too cool with that." 

"You always do what she tells you?" I ask, lifting on my toes and closing the gap between our mouths. I'm only a breath away from his lips and I feel the urge and hunger again. Holder's eyes narrow on me and before I can react he's spun me around and pinned me against the sliding glass door. His mouth is so close I taste his sweet, smoky breath, invading my lungs like a narcotic. He moves so slowly it's agony, brushing softly against my mouth, my cheeks, my throat, my shoulder. His long, deft fingers trace a path across my collar bone leaving a trail of fire in their wake. The need grows like a rumbling monster coming to life. I reach to pull him into a kiss but he traps my wrist with his hand and continues the slow torture. I'm trembling so much I fear my knees will give way as he learns the planes and angles of my face. 

When he hovers over my mouth again I strain to reach him, but a firm hand on my chest keeps me in place. The fraction of an inch between our lips feels like a chasm. "Please," I hear the plea rise from my throat unbidden and my body tries to coil around him like a snake. 

"Please, what?" he whispers, draining all my self control. I'm past caring that I'm literally begging for it. 

"Please," I strain against him, writhing with need. 

"See," he breathes into my mouth, "two can play this game, snowflake." His sardonic laughter feels like being doused with ice water and he steps away. I come back to my senses and the sight of his smirk flings me into a frenzy. 

"Fine!" I shout, knocking a table over in my anger, "then just leave me here. Just keep me chained up like a beast until I die, or you wake up and I'm suddenly gone."

"Because you went back to your 'other world', right?" he asks, making quotation marks with the fingers which only a moment ago were roaming freely across my body. 

"That's right," I spit back. 

He takes me in again with his probing gaze and I'm getting tired of bouncing between emotions, it's draining. "Fine," he says at last, "I'll take you with me tomorrow." I can tell by the rigidity of his jaw that he doesn't want Linden and I anywhere near each other, and I feel somewhat grateful for the chance he's taking. "But you do exactly what I tell you, when I tell you, and not a word about any of this," he points to the balcony aimlessly, "to anyone." 

I see the chance to have the last word in the argument and I claim the victory. 

"What, afraid your two girlfriends will find out you're keeping a sex slave in your apartment?"

The word "sex" makes Holder's eyes round with apprehension and a spark of need. He grabs me by the throat before I can protest and again I'm pressed against his tall frame in an intimate way. My heart feels like a yo-yo, bouncing between feelings on a string. 

"You keep pushing me, snowflake," his voice is low and dangerous and sends a thrill through my bones, "you won't like what you find once you push me too far." 

He drops me and tosses what's left of his cigarette butt over the railing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Holder takes our girl to work and has to juggle between Linden and her. Things keep progressing between them later at the apartment. Thanks for the Kudos folks, don't forget to drop one if you're liking the story so far.


	5. The Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holder and his captive head to work, but she can't seem to keep herself out of trouble for long.

The coffee he serves me in the morning is stale and strong, and I can almost feel it eating away at my stomach lining. I swallow the sludge anyway, thankful for something to bring clarity to my thoughts. I spent a restless night tightening my sheets and ignoring the drop in my stomach every time I thought of kissing Stephen Holder. I could hear his snores all night through the open doorway and begrudged his peaceful slumber. The need for him was so strong, I was almost glad to be tethered to the ceiling again to keep me from crawling into bed with him and doing something regrettable. 

This morning we've been saying nothing to each other, and this starts a different kind of ache, somewhere in my chest. I scold myself for getting so attached so quickly, but what's a poor girl to do when confronted with the man plucked directly from her fantasies. 

"I need to take a shower," I say, realizing I am the one who smells unpleasantly now. His eyes do a quick scan of my body and I'm dying to know what he's thinking. He says nothing, only nods. His hands are quick and deft as he releases me from my bonds, and I rub the raw flesh where they have been digging into my skin. His eyes harden at the marks but he turns away with a heavy sigh. I make my way to the bathroom and stand under the scalding water for twenty minutes. I borrow Holder's razor and remove any unsightly hair that has grown over my days of captivity. My long, dark hair takes a while to comb out and wash, but i manage to finish in half an hour. Holder is waiting for me when I get out, still wearing the same dirty clothes I have been in since I got to this strange world. 

"I'll get you something new to wear tomorrow," he says, offhandedly and tosses one of his t-shirts at me. I turn my back to him and change shirts, ignoring his sharp intake of breath. The tension between us is throwing me of kilter and making me hyper-aware of his presence. It's distracting. 

*******************************************************************************************

"What the hell is she doing here?" Linden barks. 

I can't hear the entirety of their exchange because Holder has handcuffed me to the door handle of his car, but I can make out the basics. Linden looks pissed. She's yelling at Holder a string of profanity I'm somewhat impressed by, but then their voices turn into a whisper. I don't know what he's saying, but I can see it's making sense to her. She turns her sharp piercing gaze on me and crosses to the open window next to me. It takes her a moment of examining me to speak. 

"You keep your mouth shut, do you understand me?" Her words sound like bullets striking bone. 

"I'm just here to help," I say innocently, but I can see I'm not fooling her. Holder might be distracted by some of my, ehem, more interesting attributes, but nothing gets past Linden. "I'm not going to make any trouble," I say, honestly, and this she seems to believe. She gives me a curt nod, then walks towards the station. Holder's relieved face takes her place in the frame of my window. He reaches in and releases my cuffs, tugging the sleeves of my jacket to cover the marks they left there. 

"Remember-" his eyes are sparking like a broken fuse. 

"Yeah, yeah," I answer, exasperated, "You've been nagging me since we left the apartment. I already told you, I'm just going to listen." 

"And?" He looks at me expectantly, his hand itching to latch the cuffs on me again. 

"And," I repeat with a mocking tone, "I won't tell anyone my cockamamie story about other worlds." 

He considers one last time, and for a brief moment I think he will change his mind and leave me in the car. Then he opens the door for me and takes me by the sleeve. He still has not touched me since last night. 

I follow Holder into the busy police station and all my senses are assaulted. The place smells of coffee, paper and metal, and everyone seems to be shouting at each other or into a phone. Boisterous male voices dominate the audio track, and I see that Linden must be the only woman detective in the department. I vaguely remember them mentioning that on the show. She scrutinizes me sharply as Holder leads me to their office and desk. He shoves me roughly down into the seat and his eyes tell me to not move. I nod obediently. 

"So what's on the roster for today?" Holder asks, and I can tell they're both trying to do things as usual, though their secrets and my presence is making that near impossible. I wonder what Linden would think about what happened last night. 

"I'm going to the school," Linden answers stiffly, "something isn't adding up over there. Follow up on the coroner's report," she drops her voice to a whisper, "and for God's sake talk to Reddick and get him off our ass." Holder nods and Linden grabs her jacket on the way out. She stops to give me a sour look. "Anything to contribute?" she asks me, and I scramble for information. Clearly, this had not been the smartest of plans. 

"Talk to Colonel Rayne," I answer, knowing this much of the plot, "she's hiding a lot from you." Linden looks at me for a long while then nods and leaves. I am alone with Holder again and my heart's speed kicks up a notch. 

"I'm going to talk to Carl," Holder says, carefully avoiding my gaze, "just-"

"Yeah, I know. Sit here and don't move or talk." He looks at me with the ghost of a smile. 

"You're getting the hang of it, snowflake." The nickname gives me butterflies, a feeling I thought I had outgrown in the second grade. 

Holder gives me one final warning look and heads down the hallway. I am alone. 

I realize that if there was ever a time to make my escape, it's now. For the first time in three days I'm in public, I'm not handcuffed, and Holder wouldn't dare shoot me and have to explain it to an entire precinct. So then, why am I stuck to my chair? His hazel eyes keep popping up in my mind and I can still feel the heat of his mouth on me. I try to reason with myself that he's still a fictional character and that I have no right to these feelings, but the the memory of his body pressed against me negates my thoughts. Yet still, I will myself to move. My limbs work like they're on strings, awkward and disjointed, but they work nonetheless. 

I am peeking through the door and down the hallway in no time. I don't see Holder anywhere. I try to look as nonchalant as possible as I stroll through the precinct room like I belong there. No one gives me a second thought. A man is shouting loudly, handcuffed to a chair on my left. I try to ignore his crude screaming as I walk past him, but I definitely hear the word "cunt". I keep going. 

As I have my hand on the door everything explodes into chaos. The screaming man stands and throws the small chair against the desk of the officer in front of him and it shatters to pieces, throwing shrapnel all around. In the second it takes for everyone to realize what's happening and duck, the man is running for the door. 

The door I'm standing in front of. 

I don't see the knife but my eyes catch a flash of silver before I feel the blade against my neck. My back is suddenly pressed against the man's smelly coat and his scruffy beard is itching my neck. I curse my stupidity for leaving Holder's office. 

"Nobody move or I'll cut this cunt in half, you hear me?" The man breathing like an animal into my neck sounds demented, and all I can think about is how pissed Holder's going to be when he finds out. 

As though I called him with my thoughts he appears around the corner of the hallway. 

"I said nobody fucking move!" the man grabs my hair and pulls my head back roughly, giving the blade better access to my jugular. The steel looks hungry. 

Out of the corner of my watery eye, I see Holder realize what's happening. His gaze takes me in with an initial look of panic, a terror unlike any I have ever seen on his face. Then his body goes through a physical transformation, and I feel my jaw drop. He is maybe fifteen feet away from me, but I see his body coil and become taught. His features harden and his eyes spark like a night fire blazing out of control. I can't be sure if his fury is directed at me or the man holding me, but at this point it matters not. As soon as I see it, I know I'm going to be alright.

The assailant digging his blade into the soft flesh of my throat does not register Holder's entrance, and out of the corner of my other eye I see a flash of red hair. I realize Linden is doing what good police officers do, backing up her partner. I feel a deep admiration for her, but I have no time to manage these feelings because I feel the blade pierce me and the trickle of blood down my chest, the drop nestling between my breasts. 

The man behind me is screaming incomprehensibly, his panic spiraling out of control. I know soon he will explode, lose all sanity and then I can't be sure how he will react. From my vantage point I can see Holder crouch behind a desk and prepare his weapon, but he remains hidden from the assailant. The rage on his face makes me shiver, and I know I will only have one chance. If Stephen Holder gets his hands on my again, he just might kill me. 

I'm hyper aware of my surroundings, and I know the front door to the station is only a foot behind me. I feel the man start to drag me by my hair, digging the knife into me to urge me to move. I follow instructions carefully, and do my best to maintain my balance. I see Holder take the safety off his gun and realize it's now or never. 

I pull my hand forward and with every ounce of strength I have, dig my elbow into the assailant's ribs. It get him directly in the solar plexus, and the shock forces his hand away from my throat. I bring my elbow back again and this time strike him right in the eye. His screaming erupts into new heights and he's slashing wildly with his knife. I throw myself backward and we fall together in a tangle of limbs. As soon as I'm aware of my back hitting the ground I feel the hands release me and I spring to my feet again. In the next instant the knife rushes at me and I know it's going to strike me right in the neck. A large hand I'm very familiar with, grips the man's wrist at the last instant. Holder twists until I hear a sickening pop, his face a mask of deranged fury. He resembles more animal than man as he digs his knee into the assailant's chest. 

I am so close to his face I wish I could say goodbye properly, but then pandemonium erupts. Several officers throw themselves on the assailant, doing their best to help Holder keep him down. Linden keeps her gun trained on him and I know this is my chance. Everyone is so busy with the knife-wielder, no one pays attention to his hostage. I see a flash of Holder's hazel eyes as I slip through the door. 

I know I have only moment's before he's right behind me, so I pick a path and run.


	6. The Alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holder catches up to his hostage.

My heart pounds in my chest and I feel like every decision I make could possibly be my last. How can I know what the right choice is? I pick left at random and start running. I don't know how far I'll get on foot and I'm sure Holder will be much faster than I am with his long legs. I am thankful for his smoking habits and hope the commotion inside will keep him a little longer. I can only hear the wind rushing and my feet striking the pavement as I push myself. 

I make the mistake of looking back. I've covered probably a quarter mile when I see the doors of the precinct slam open and the tall frame of Stephen Holder burst through. He looks downright feral as he searches around for me. I freeze when his eyes rest on me and know this is my last chance. As he propels himself toward me, I find the closest alley and dive in. I thank my lucky stars I haven't picked a dead end, and make for the opening on the other side. It's far but I also know Holder has some ground to cover before he can reach me, and as long as I stick to small alleys he can't follow me in his car. My legs pump mechanically and just as I spill out into the sunshine on the other end, Holder's footsteps echo into the alleyway. He doesn't slow for a moment and continues his pursuit. 

I scramble for my next choice and see another small alley a few yards up the street. I make for it, the desperation starting to take hold. I feel a fuel-injection of adrenaline stream through my veins, and my animal instinct recognizes the hunt of a predator for prey. Though I am certain Holder won't eat me when he catches me, some primal part of me is wrestling with fight or flight. So far it has chosen flight. Holder rounds the corner and makes for me mercilessly. I duck into the alley and my heart stops. A dead end. 

I rush to the end where I see a small doorway, realizing my predator is only yards away. Soon his hand will close around my hair, his gun press against my head, and I know for certain that no amount of kissing or distracting will save me now. He will do whatever it takes to protect his secret, and I've seen his fury at my being noticed by the rest of the precinct. He is furious that I've been seen, furious that now he will have to answer uncomfortable questions about my presence. 

I rush for the door as his frame fills the entry to the narrow alleyway. Two people would not be able to walk abreast in its width, so I know I have no hope of slipping past him, the door is my only choice. I reach it as he's rushing towards me, a look of violence on his face. I push on the door handle as hard as I can, but it won't budge. I tug, but he is only a few feet away and I see all hope fade. 

My body switches to fight mode, seeing no further route for escape. I face the oncoming Holder and do my best to remember the three week self defense class I took in high school. My brain feels frozen by shock. I wonder if he will just shoot me, or strangle me as he so likes to do. Even as I consider my impending doom, I can't help but be in awe of his strength, the hunt making him more attractive than he's ever been. I'm torn between admiration and terror when he finally reaches me at full speed. 

I brace myself and twist my body, so my shoulder digs into his chest. Like a wrecking ball he plows right through my feeble attempts at resistance and slams us both into the hard brick wall. My hands reach up to scratch his face but in an instant they are trapped in his. I squirm and try to kick at him, maybe get a good shot in the nuts. No such luck. With his hand around my throat he presses me into the wall cutting off my breathing and rendering me inert. So it is to be strangulation. I struggle feebly against his hard grip and hide my eyes from his furious gaze. 

I am just resigning myself to dying at the hands of a fictional character in what I thought was a TV show when everything changes. Holder's look of fury disintegrates and changes into one of despair. In all the episodes, I have never seen such an expression on his face. It's relief, mixed with terror and anger all into one. Before I can react to any of it, he smashes his lips into mine and takes my breath away. 

My body reacts instinctively, pushing him away even though I'm not sure I want to. He ignores my pathetic attempt to fight back and presses into me so hard I'm afraid he will crush my lungs. His mouth is tough, unyielding, taking control and leaving no room for me to protest or retaliate. 

"No!" I cry, managing to free my mouth for one second, but immediately he is back cutting off my breath. "Wait!" I manage one more time but he shows no intention of slowing down. In fact, he's speeding up. 

It seems either my attempt at escape or the knife that was just cutting into my flesh has changed something in Holder. There is no hesitation in him anymore. 

I continue my struggle halfheartedly, but I already feel the moisture between my legs. Holder's like a wild animal, twisting at the t-shirt he gave me this morning and raking his teeth across my jaw. 

"Please!" I whisper, though I'm not sure what I'm begging for. My hands are glued to my side, I can't decide if I want to push him away or pull him closer. I try to protest when his hands roughly lift the t-shirt from my body, remind him we're in a public place, but I'm certain in his passion he wouldn't hear me anyway. In spite of how frantic he is, his hands still display an impressive amount of skill as they lift the shirt off me and keep me pressed against the wall. My desire to fight fizzles like a burned out candle when his mouth presses against my breast. My breathing is so labored I could be in the last laps of a marathon. His tongue rolls across my skin like an artists paintbrush and I curve backwards to give him more room. He's working with everything at once, lips, teeth, tongue and fingers. His hips grind into me suggestively and I don't have to work hard to imagine where this will end. 

I want to tell him to stop, that this is crazy, but the urgency with which he unzips my jeans leaves no room for argument. I hear what sounds like a yelp when he digs his hand inside my panties and realize it came from me. Holder's mouth is on mine again, his tongue stroking mine in a sinful dance. My hips strain forward and I lose all thought of fighting back when he pulls the cup of my bra aside and takes a nipple deep into his mouth. My body is writhing, bending into impossible shapes trying to wrap around him like a shackle. I want him so much all thoughts are burned from my mind like I'm a victim of arson. 

"Fucking Christ," he moans as I dig my hand in the back pockets of his jeans and pull him against me. His erection is impossible to miss and my mouth waters at the thought of feeling it inside me. There is no hope of stopping this freight train anymore.

He puts a hand on my chest and pulls back a bit, though still pressed to me. His hazel eyes still carry the smoldering embers of fury at my escape attempt and I tremble under their gaze. Holder stares straight at me, letting them blaze as he digs his hand into my jeans. I make a mewling sound in my throat when his fingers find the right spot. I collapse against him and am thankful for the hand holding me pressed into the wall when my knees give way. His calloused, massive fingers rub against me, alternating from gentle to rough in a way that makes me completely weak. He's erased even the memory of my own name with his fingertips and when he slips one inside me, I fall against him. 

Holder presses me into the wall with his whole body, digging his hands into my hair to lift my heavy head. He forces me to look into his eyes as he works on me, the desire and anger I see there a type of sweet, sweet punishment. He works his finger in and out of me, pressing his thumb against my clit. My hands grip his large shoulders, searching for anything to keep me upright. He slips a second finger inside me and this time I scream. I'm past caring who sees or hears us, Skinner could come back from the dead right now and I wouldn't care. I just want him to fill me, end this torture and give me some relief. 

"God you're wet," he moans into my lips as his fingers start a rougher, faster pace. I'm bucking against his hand and a smirk starts to grow on his face. He kisses me again as though he's trying to know every corner of my mouth by heart. His tongue is so vigorous I can't help but think how it would feel between my legs. The thought sends me over the edge. 

"Oh God, please," I beg, melting like a dripping candle beneath his touch. I feel the smile against my lips and he obliges me. His fingers are rolling in and out of me in ways I didn't even know could be done. And then he pulls my face up and forces me to look into his eyes as a third finger slips in. I'm grunting like an animal now, beyond all form of decor. I want more than his hands, I want him inside me, but no matter how I try to take it, he keeps the control. He gives me one final wicked smile and makes sure I'm staring straight into his eyes when his long finger hits a bundle of nerves inside me and sends me spiraling out of control. "Oh Christ!" I scream, the sound bouncing across the walls of the alleyway as I come all over his hand. He doesn't let me go but keeps pumping, until I can no longer hold myself up. Before I collapse to the ground he brings the fingers that have been torturing me to his lips and tastes them with a smile. 

I don't move for a long time, riding the waves of the orgasm gently back to the ground. When I finally feel like I can process reality again, I start to laugh. The situation seems so ridiculous to me that my laughter grows into hysterics. I can vaguely see Holder is concerned for me and I feel his strong hands pull me to my knees. He yanks my pants back around me and buttons them up. He picks my shirt from where he had discarded it and puts it back on as though he's dressing a doll. I don't fight, still lost in a fit of laughter. I feel a wonderful ache deep in my bowels and the afterglow holds me in its spell. I'm past caring that Holder is leading me back to my prison, back to handcuffs and uncomfortable couches. For the first time since tumbling into this bizarre world, I am glad to be going where I am. I know he will probably regret what happened the second he lays eyes on Linden, after all it's her he's in love with, but it doesn't matter anymore. As far as I know Holder and Linden have a long time until they get together, and from what I remember Caroline is more of a plot device anyway. I fully intend to enjoy Stephen Holder again and again and again, before I find a way back home. If I ever will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER! THERE IS PLENTY MORE COMING, EVEN THOUGH IT MAY READ THAT WAY.


	7. Holder's Looking Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is from Holder's perspective. What does he think of all of this?   
> Fluffedy Smut ensues. Minor Bondage. Kicking this one up a notch!!

She doesn't speak for the entire ride to my apartment, just sits there with a small smile on her lips. I want to say something, feel like I should. I mean I did pretty much attack her ass in that alley, and more than once she had said stop or no. I wonder who I'm becoming. Linden's choice, and my subsequent decisions, seem to have changed something inside me. I feel the darkness of addiction in my bones, the same way I did when I used. I don't much like it. 

These women are going to kill me, I think. Caroline and her demands, I used to think we were perfect together, she brought out the best in me. Now I don't feel like there's anything good left to bring out. Linden and her unpredictability, flying off the handle at the first chance she gets. It took me a long time to come to terms with how I feel about her, and I know full well she'll never be the kind of girl you settle down with. Still, I dream about her almost every night. I didn't think it could get anymore complicated than being in love with your partner, but what did I know? 

Now, there's the woman sitting next to me, who's scent I can still taste on my tongue. I steal a glance at her when I think she's not looking. She still hasn't moved, hasn't said anything, just keeps staring out the window at the rain like she knows some deep secret. Her secrets are starting to get on my last nerve. I realize with a sharp impact that I don't even know her name. I was ready to bury my cock inside her in that alleyway, and probably would have if I'd lost anymore of my sense, but I have no idea what her name is. Even worse, she knows mine, seems to know everything about me, though I know literally nothing about her. Well, except that she's completely coo-coo pants. 

"What's your name?" I hear the words out of my mouth before I've willed them to be spoken. My voice sounds surprisingly harsh, but she doesn't turn to me or seem offended. Her smile stays in place. 

"Isn't that something you should ask women before you shove your hands down their pants?" Her eyes are sparkling with mischief and she actually makes me squirm. I don't like how she makes me feel, like she's always a step ahead. 

The truth was that I had played my hand and now she thought she could control me. When I saw that fucker's knife against her throat, I thought I'd lost use of my lungs. The burning rage that had grown inside me could not find a direction so it fractured into shrapnel. If they hadn't pulled me off him, I would have killed the man right there in the precinct with his own knife. But when I saw she was running, I swear my brain shut off completely. All I could think was "No, I can't let her go." I didn't stop to consider if I was worried about her ratting on us or just that I haven't been able to stop thinking about shoving my dick in her since we met. Probably why the only reaction that came to mind when I caught her in that alley was to do exactly that. Thank Shiva I came to my senses halfway through, or we would be having a much more uncomfortable conversation. 

I shake my head to try and clear it. This is a damn disaster! Linden is probably freaking out by now, which is why I turned off my phone. And the girl next to me still hasn't told me a single damn thing about her. For a moment I consider just beating it out of her, but I know hitting women ain't my style. I steal another glance at her and meet her dark brown eyes. Her gaze is full of promises that bend and twist my gut into abnormal shapes. My hands are shaking like I'm on crystal when I pull out a cigarette and light it. Before I can take a drag her soft fingers brush like a whisper against my lips and the cigarette is in her mouth. I feel like pulling the car over and shaking the shit out of her. Who does she think she is? 

"Getting awful forward, ain't you, snowflake?" 

"Oh," she smiles, turning her smoldering gaze to the window, "I'm going to get much more forward than this." 

My stomach drops and my hands are shaking so bad I barely get the second cigarette lit. I hear a giggle out of her and feel like breaking the steering wheel in half. The promise in her words is making my cock stand at attention in a painful way. I adjust the damn thing so it doesn't look so obvious. Whatever power she thinks she has over me, I need to turn the tables right the fuck now. She's my prisoner, she needs to do what I say, her safety is in MY hands. I keep repeating the words to myself like a mantra for the rest of the drive. When we finally pull up to my apartment, I have already made the decision to tie her up and gag her so she can't speak. Maybe then she'll remember who's in charge. There's too much at stake to let her take control of me again, and the look in her eyes says she means to. 

I'm not gentle when I grab her by her long hair and drag her behind me. She doesn't say a thing except a small moan in her throat. Who is this woman? I've done nothing but throw her around and truss her up, but she still somehow manages to look at me like I'm a particularly delicious plate of Siracha Chicken. My dick is refusing to cooperate with my new plan of not letting her get to me. I need to get some info out of her, I say to myself, and the only way to do that is to keep the control. As far as I'm concerned, the alley was just another way of keeping that control. Yes. Good. That's what we'll go with. 

We barely make it through the door when she turns to me, oblivious to my fingers digging into her auburn curls. They feel like silk around my hand, and concentrating on my plan is proving more difficult than I thought. Her face is only inches from mine, she's pressing into me in a way that can't be mistaken, and her eyes burn like a forest fire. I almost forget all the promises I made to myself when finally the logical half of my brain kicks in. 

"Sit the fuck down, right now," I say, shoving her a safe distance away. I'm angry. I can't stand feeling like someone's goddamn puppet, and the feeling makes me more violent than I'd like. She doesn't seem to mind. That infuriating smile is still playing on her lips. Oh no. I looked at her mouth. She's running her tongue across it to moisten the surface of her lips, but all I can think about is how they would look wrapped around my co....

Nope! I shake my head and cross to the other side of the room. I hear the roar of thunder from outside, and the rain starts to pound on the roof. 

"Why did you run?" I ask, trying to cut through the silence that seems to be driving me crazy, anything to distract me from the look in her eyes. She looks like a predator, her eyes zeroed in on the prey. And I'm the prey. It's intimidating, I realize, and then remember I'm supposed to be in charge. 

"Because I don't want to spend all my time tied up on your couch." The way she says the words make me think there is some underlying meaning, but I try to ignore it. My pants feel so tight I'm afraid they're cutting off circulation to my... ehem, brain. 

"Then you'd better start talking. I've had enough of this bullshit, girl." I use my best intimidation voice, but she doesn't so much as flinch. Where did all this new-found confidence come from? I made a terrible mistake giving into my madness back in that alley. There must be some way to rectify the situation. 

"You could tie me to the bed instead," her eyebrow raises in such a seductive way, I almost take her right there, "like you said."

Oh fuck this, I think, having reached my limit. She's going to understand who's in charge here once and for all. I don't say a word, afraid it'll give away how much I want to take her up on the blatant invitation. I pull the cuffs from my back pocket and approach her. I think she will fight back, push me away, try and claw my eyes like she'd done before, but she keeps that damnable smile on her face and turns around meekly. I clasp the cuffs around her wrist, trying to ignore how chafed and raw her skin looks there. I feel like a piece of shit, but a point is a point, and she's going to get this one. Once I'm sure her cuffs are tight and unyielding, I spin her around. I want to tape that mouth up so I don't have to look at her lips anymore, don't have to hear those words that spin me into such a tizzy. I need to take her voice away for my own sanity. My eyes scan the room for some duct tape, but since she cleaned I can't seem to find anything in this damn place. The thought makes me angrier. I'm about to stuff a random piece of fabric in her mouth when I feel her come up against me. 

I freeze with indecision. She's standing so close I can feel the heat emanating off her, wrapping around me like a narcotic. I can't speak. She steps closer and to my own horror I back away. I should be pushing her, knocking her to the ground, stuffing that damnable mouth with something but I've lost all train of thought. We keep moving like in a trance, a tango, she steps forward and I step back, doing my best to maintain the fraction of an inch between our bodies. She's still smiling that infuriating smile and I want to slap it off her face, choke that confidence out of her throat, but I can't seem to move. 

I feel something behind my shins and in the next instant I slip. I fall into the arm chair and she steps between my legs, pressed against the base. The smile on her face turns into a malicious grin and I swallow past my dry throat. 

"What-" I try, but it comes out as a squeak. I've never squeaked in my life, but her intensity is bending around me almost physically, and I can't move a muscle in my own defense. She could slit my throat right now if she wanted to. Except, I remember, her hands are tied behind her back. A small sigh of relief slips through my lips as I realize she has no weapons to use in this battle. 

Then she drops to her knees in front of me. 

I stop breathing all together, my eyes locked with hers in a mortal struggle. I feel the need to run, to get as far away from whatever she has planned as possible. I know it'll be my undoing. Her ample breasts are nestled at the level of my lap, and she's pressed against me. I can't think, I can't react, I can only breathlessly wait for whatever may come next. 

I think I will lose my sanity completely when, with a final smirk, she dips her head into my crotch. My dick is straining like a caged beast against my zipper and I feel like I don't have any blood left to operate my brain. She keeps her eyes on me like a hypnotizing snake, as she grips the zipper between her pearly teeth. She doesn't even seem to need her hands and I curse myself for not having taped her mouth when I had the chance. I'm so paralyzed now. The sound of the zipper coming undone is the most erotic thing I've ever heard and I hold my breath. Her eyes never leave mine as she undoes the button of my jeans and pulls the flaps open, all with her mouth. 

It would be impossible to miss how much I want her, the way my dick is bulging out of my boxers. She works slowly, methodically, her eyes glued to mine as she pulls them down with her teeth. I think I might cum just from the sight of her, hands tied behind her back, the wicked glimmer in her eye like a multifaceted diamond, but I try to keep it together. I can't decide what would be worse now, for her to stop or keep going. Either option seems like a torture, then again I have no say in the matter anymore. 

When my dick finally springs from its confines, I release a sigh of relief. This is the first time she breaks eye contact and she stares down at it with unmistakable hunger. The second her eyes leave mine, I feel like the spell breaking. Some semblance of thought returns to my brain and I realize I need to get out of this now, I need to move, to-Oh fuck. 

I didn't think fast enough. I didn't move fast enough. Her lips came down on me like a suction cup, taking me all the way to the back of her throat. "Jesus fucking Christ!" I shout, unable to help myself. I look down to see those lips working at the base of my cock, the way her eyes bulge when I'm as deep as I can go and my head falls back, defeated. I stare at the ceiling for a moment, reveling in the feel of her warmth around me. She's wet, and sloppy and I hear the suckling sounds she makes around me, thinking I will be insane when it's all over, they'll have to take me away to the funny farm. 

I won't last long, I know. I haven't had a blow job in years, since before I went celibate. Caroline's too much of a lady to do it (or so she said) and I never pressured her. But this complete stranger is going to town on me like I'm a vanilla flavored Popsicle and I can feel myself starting to lose control. I thrust into her mouth with abandon and she takes all of me like a champ. The sight of her wide eyes above those lips that are working such magic, her dark hair like an auburn halo around her glistening face, and her hands tied behind her back, helpless, pushes me over the edge. I catch her hair in an iron grip, no longer in control of my actions. I lock my eyes with hers as I steal the control back. This time I'm moving, grinding my hips, lifting them so my cock rubs softly against her teeth, pushing hard to the back of her throat, relishing in the choking sounds she makes against me. I can feel my face changing, from an expression of shock to pure hunger. I'm close, I speed up the rhythm and she doesn't shy away but takes me fully. She's making humming, moaning sounds, her mouth vibrating around my dick, driving me to madness. I'm grunting like an animal now, wild with abandon, completely lost in the sensation. I feel the pressure building in my balls and I realize I should warn her, she may not want to-

No, I think wickedly, she started this, she's taking it all. The thought of her swallowing my cum pushes me firmly into my orgasm. I pull her by her hair and come as far back into her throat as I can. She chokes, tries to pull away but the look in my eyes is fierce as I continue to spend the rest of myself into her. I don't pull out, but tug gently on her hair, keeping her in place so she understands. She's not going anywhere until she swallows. I expect disgust in her eyes, something akin to hatred, anything but what I see. She closes her eyes and swallows my seed like it's the finest chocolate in Seattle. The sight would be enough to make me hard again, if I didn't feel so spent. Finally, when I'm sure it's all gone down her throat, and with more than a little reluctance, I release her hair and pull out from between her lips. It's the saddest sight I've seen. 

I'm not sure what to expect next. I can still feel the tightness in my gut, the glowing ache of afterglow in my balls that tells me I haven't cum like that in years. I think maybe I should say something, or try and find some semblance of the plan I had once made, but it all fades from thought. All I can think is how beautiful she looks, wild hair, wild eyes, the glisten of me still smeared on her mouth. It's enough to drive a man crazy. 

When my legs finally transform from jelly back into solid bone, I stand gingerly. She's still on the ground, kneeling, staring up at me like the cat who ate the canary. The thought sends my stomach into a tumble. I can't handle this woman, I think, and despite my best judgment I pull the key out of my pocket and release her cuffs. She rubs her raw wrist and kneads the muscles of her arms. No need to tie her up tonight, I realize, she isn't going anywhere. Except, I think, to my bed.


	8. By Any Other Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to her point of view. Time for Holder to get some information out of his captive. And he thinks he's found the perfect way.

I can still taste him in my mouth by the time my hands are uncuffed. My face feels sticky but I can't seem to contain the glow in the pit of my stomach. The sight of Stephen Holder completely undone by my ministrations had turned me on so much my legs are quivering. I don't trust myself to stand yet, so I keep my eyes glued to him, brimming with victory. He looks like he's still trying to recover from his orgasm, and I have to admit I'd never seen a man clench so tight or shout so loud in all my years of sexual experience. Clearly I'd done something right. 

At first I considered just turning him on and leaving him, but my own ego propelled me forward, unable to stop. The more he became putty in my, ehem, mouth, the more electrified and confident I felt. When I saw the look in his eyes as he dug his hands in my hair, I thought I might climax as well, just from the sight of him. 

Unfortunately, the moment has passed, Holder is returning to his senses, and soon he will start asking me questions again; questions I can't answer. I reach my hand up to wipe my mouth, when I see Holder's fingers snake out and stop me. Oh damn it, I am really getting tired of this put the handcuffs on, take the handcuffs off bullshit. My skin has started bleeding in some places, and though I'm not exactly a whiner, it was getting more than uncomfortable. Then again, the way he had violently shoved himself into the back of my throat and forced me to swallow everything, showed he has less than no care about my comfort. The thought of his eyes boring into mine as he fucked my mouth, starts a pooling between my legs. Dammit. It's getting exhausting, living in this world where every single moment I'm aware of what Holder is doing and how close he is to me. 

Ironically, I'm so lost in my thoughts I don't feel him approach me. Before I have a chance to make a sound, a protest, an acknowledgment of any kind, he swings me into his strong arms. I struggle, uncertain what revenge he intends to exact on me, though I know he can't be happy with how easily I manipulated him. I'm learning that Stephen Holder does not like to be controlled. 

"Stop moving right now, or I'll shoot you," he says simply, calmly, but with such a depth I believe every word. I concede, but only slightly. I no longer struggle, but I remain stiff and unyielding in his arms, crossing my own across my body and pretending he isn't carrying me like a child to- oh no. 

I finally get enough wits about me to realize where he's taking me. Nope, nope, I think, the balance of power is shifting visibly in his favor. What have I done? This was supposed to be a way for him to start trusting me, seeing me in a different light, maybe give me a cheap thrill. I'd never intended... Now Holder's arms are cinched around me like a bear trap around a mangled paw and he's boldly carrying me into his bedroom. 

Once we step through the door he dumps me unceremoniously on the soft carpet and starts to unbutton his shirt. The four post bed looms over us like an iceberg over the Titanic and I swallow past the knot building in my throat. 

"What's going on?" I sound so meek I feel ridiculous. Not fifteen minutes ago I was going down on this man with no reservations and now all I feel from him is danger. Alarm bells are going off in my head as Holder strips his shirt off and tosses it carelessly on the ground. His eyes are boring into me like a high-powered drill and I can feel that gaze physically. I realize I'm gripping my clothes to me for dear life. He can't mean to take things THAT far, can he? 

"Take your clothes off." His tone is so strong it might cut through the sheer fabric of my shirt on its own. I don't move, but arrange my face into the most defiant look I can. 

"Fuck you," is my only answer. 

The look that comes across his face is pure evil and I shiver to be on the receiving end. "You're about to." My stomach drops to the level of my toes at that statement. Oh lord, he does mean to go THAT far. I see the door to my right and I eye the opening greedily. What are the chances that I can bolt out the door before he catches me? 

"Didn't work too well last time, snowflake," he says pointedly, clearly reading my mind. Yes, I realize, running from him hadn't gotten me anywhere until now. Instead I search the room for something to knock him over the head with and maybe tie him up. I come up blank, still huddled on the floor where he dropped me, clutching my clothes. "I said take 'em off."

"And I said fuck you," I spit back, but his previous retort to this statement clinches my stomach into tight knots. The idea of him buried to the hilt inside me makes me want to strip all my clothes off right now, but it also kinda makes me want to vomit with nerves. What do I know about fucking fantasy men? What if I'm unequal to the task? What if-

I don't have time to finish my thoughts before he grips me by the back of the collar like I'm a child and sets me on my feet in front of him. I swat his hands away from my-his-shirt. I expect him to smile, make a joke, but his intensity is so thick you'd need a chainsaw to slice through it. It's choking me, cutting off my breathing and making it erratic. He twists the front of my shirt so tightly in his fist I expect to hear tearing sounds. 

"I will cut these goddamn clothes off you if you don't strip, right the fuck now." His voice is low, slow, he emphasizes each syllable and I'm certain he means it. I shake from head to toe, but go about the task slowly, to buy myself some time to think, to prepare, to-

I hear a frustrated growl from him and his hands grab the shirt as I'm lifting it and pulls it off me. His eyes fall on my heaving chest with a hunger unlike any I have ever seen. His eyes have the glimmer of a wicked smile as he reaches two fingers between by breasts and hooks them around the front of my bra. 

"Wait," I cry, uncertain of what comes next. He ignores me completely as his second hand joins the other and with one smooth tug the fabric falls apart in his long fingers. My breasts bounce free as the cups fall away and off my shoulders. I'm standing before Stephen Holder, topless, my hands clenching and releasing. I feel like a virgin, nervous to the point of panic like it's my first time. How could I have just been doing what I did on that armchair and now be so paralyzed by fear?

I don't notice that I'm moving backwards until my calves hit something soft. With a gasp I realize it's the side of Holder's massive bed. I give one last longing look to the open door only a few feet away from me, before Holder smiles that ruthless smile and with two fingers presses into the center of my chest like he's knocking over a domino. Such a gentle push, but I'm trapped between him and the bed so I fall into the soft sheets below me. I'm glad I recently washed them and they smell like soap and softener. Holder is towering over me with his overwhelming height, and my heart is hammering like a construction site. 

"I-" I try, thinking maybe I can talk my way out of this. Why the hell did I even start all this mess? I want to kick myself, take a time machine back to half an hour ago and break my own teeth, then maybe I wouldn't have acted the way I did, like some wanton-

I gasp as Holder runs his fingers up my legs, and grabs me by the back of the knees to pull me forward. "I said," he commands, "OFF!" I'm not sure what kind of magic he performs but suddenly my jeans are lying on his floor and I'm one hundred percent naked in front of him. My entire body convulses, violent shakes that could be attributed to the chilly temperature, but I know are coming from a different place. He doesn't move, he just stares at me like I'm a delectable piece of meat and he's deciding where to start the first bite. My hands move to cover my vital parts from his probing gaze but he swats them away like pesky flies. He looks pleased with the sight, and somewhere inside my heart hammers louder.

"Now," he says, his eyes finally lingering on my face, "you're going to tell me your name." I shake my head firmly. If he has my name it's only one more step to having me sent to the funny farm. I have no intention of winding up in an asylum for the homeless and destitute, and I know anything I say to him will only prove I'm crazier. He's nodding his head in spite of my wordless protestations. "Yes, snowflake, yes you will. You're going to tell me your name and everything else I want to know."

I'm like a bobble-head, still denying his words and wondering how he means to get the information out of me. The answer comes from his imitation of my previous salacious actions. With the corners of his mouth turned into a smirk, he kneels before me until his chest is at the same level as my prostrate body. I realize what he means to do and my body reacts on its own, springing from the bed toward the door. No way! That's too much for me to take from a fictional character. I roll on my back, glad to have use of my hands and jump up on the other side of the bed. It's unimportant that I'm naked, at this point I don't care where I go, just somewhere away from Stephen Holder's questions, his burning eyes, his half naked body, his TONGUE poised to extract more than answers from me. 

I make it halfway to the door before I feel his arm snake around my waist. Somewhere in the back, my mind sensibly thinks: at least it wasn't your hair this time. I writhe violently in his grip, but he's behind me and I can't seem to do any kind of damage. I'm not certain what I'm so scared of, I wanted him from the beginning, but on my own terms, not his. I want to be in control of this, and right now I have less than none. This time I'm airborne for a second before my body slams down onto the bed. "No!" I shout blindly, trying to get my bearings and find my next escape route. All hope is lost when I feel the weight of Holder's body crushing me into the mattress. I look up with as much fury as I can, but it dies in my throat. His mouth is so beautiful, so close, and all I want is for him to kiss me. I'm so confused, tired of bouncing between extremes. His eyes are locked on my lips as his hands trap my wrists on either side of my head. He presses me into the soft sheets beneath me and I think not even in my wildest fantasies have I wanted him this much. 

"What's your name?" he asks, simply. It's open and frank, and I want so much to just answer him, but the fear holds me back. I shake my head, trembling with anticipation. I know no matter what he does, he will never be able to get it out of me. His lips come closer, brushing like feathers against mine, reducing me to a blubbering, quivering mess. He flicks his tongue and I feel it touch my mouth. I think about straining my neck, just taking the kiss, but I'm afraid of how he'll react. I'm so uncertain of everything, scared to lose all of myself to this man who may be no more than a figment of my imagination. "Tell me your name," he coaxes against my mouth. This time I almost answer involuntarily but I stop myself at the last second. I shake my head again, not trusting myself to speak. His face starts to change and I realize he thought he would have me at least more compliant by now. He seems affronted by my lack of submission, like it's a personal insult to his skill. "You will tell me your name," he says, the crease of a small frown cropping up between his brows. I continue to shake my head. His mouth moves, brushing against my jaw, my cheeks, my throat, my collarbone, so soft it's like a whisper. "Then when I come inside you, I know what to shout." 

He grinds his hips into me to emphasize his point, but I've already stopped breathing. Did he just say-oh Lord, I think he did. This will be my complete undoing. I'm sure by now he can feel how wet I am through his pants as he rubs his once again erect cock against my most sensitive area. The feeling of this fantasy fiction man pressing against me, wanting me so much is a heady elixir. I start to lose control of my faculties, rolling my head back and letting out a series of indescribable sounds as his mouth moves down my body. My hands are still trapped in his but they are twisting, squirming to get free and touch him. He releases one of my wrists and locks them above my head. I'm past struggling, high like I just smoked a blunt. Reality is bending around me, snaps in two when Holder wraps his lips around my nipple and sucks hard. It's verging on pain, but he doesn't relinquish until I'm gasping, tears forming on the corners of my eyes. 

"Your name, snowflake," I can feel his smile against the breast he's ravaging. I've closed my eyes because the sight of him all over me is too beautiful to take. I feel his long fingers touching me everywhere, running down my ribs, wrapping around my waist, digging painfully into my hips as his mouth works its way back up to mine. He finally kisses me. I feel like he's kissing me with his whole body. His tongue is mounting an attack on mine, charging and retreating, coming in for a second wave. His hips are rolling on me, making me so aware of the appendage which only minutes ago was in my mouth. I want to fight, to take back the lead, but I'm helpless in his arms. "Tell me your name," he breathes into my mouth, and I almost tell him. When I don't, he growls like a woodland beast. Holder pulls himself off me and I hear myself protest the sudden departure. My mind is foggy with lust and fear and confusion. I can't decide if I want this or not. "Tell me your fucking name, woman!" He's shouting now, but I hold out. I hear him growl "fuck this" under his breath and in the next moment his pants hit the ground. I think he will come for me right away, and most of me is eager to feel him. 

Instead, he drops back down to his knees and I realize I'm right back in the same position. I make one final, feeble attempt at escape but his hands dig into my ass and pull me to him. The next thing I know my back is arching off the bed, bending impossibly far, my muscles coiling with ecstasy as Holder's face buries itself into me. He starts slow, flicking my clit with the tip of his tongue, gently blowing on the turgid bundle of nerves. I squirm and writhe, wanting to shove myself into him, to beg him to end this torture, but I know he's just beginning. His massive palms hold me still from the waist down and the sight of his large shoulders nestled between my legs is enough to make me wild. 

"Please." I realize I'm begging again, just like I had in that alley. 

"Your name," is his only answer. His nose is pressing against me, rubbing in circles and taking in my scent. I feel a deep pressure as he slips a finger inside me and I think I'm on the verge of-

Suddenly he's not touching me anymore, just hovering over me with a wild, wicked look in his eye. 

"Tell me your name or I'll stop right now." I gulp. I want him so much it's almost criminal but the fight in me won't be denied. 

"Makes no matter to me," I shoot back breathlessly, doing my best impression of indifference, even though I know there is no way to deny my desire. The proof is quite physical. Holder's brows shoot up and together, a look of shock on his face. I can tell he expected to have already reduced me to a puddle of desire that would do anything for release. 

"Damn stubborn woman," he grinds through his teeth, the frustration in his eyes making me shiver. He dips his hand between us and suddenly there are two fingers deep inside me. 

"Ungh!" I groan, feeling stretched and full. As soon as they start to feel good, the fingers are gone. He brings them up between our faces and rubs them together. 

"Sure looks like it matters to you." Presented with the evidence of my need, I remain speechless. Holder dips back down below and continues his oral exploration. He slips a finger inside me and makes a come hither motion as his tongue circles my clit. I feel the orgasm start to build in my core, and he licks me harder, faster. I can see the finish line before my eyes, white spots behind the lids I'm shutting so hard it's almost painful. Just as I'm about to peak, Holder's gone again, hovering over me without so much as touching me. His smile is twisted and cruel. 

"Your fucking name." I shake my head, but I know I can't go on like this much longer. I'm exhausted with need and the heady combination of desire and fear. 

It goes on for another twenty minutes. Holder drives me almost to the edge again and again, and just as I'm about to tumble over it he stops, leaves me unsatisfied. By the end of it I'm screaming in frustration, clawing at his back like a wild animal, trying to block out his rumbling laughter. I think, hopelessly, that he will finally take me to culmination, but just as I'm about to steal my climax from him, he's gone again. 

I shriek like a banshee with hatred, and give him an ugly, violent look. Tired of being at his mercy and so close to the end, I reach a hand down and try to finish myself off, right in front of him so he'll see my victory. His hand snaps around my wrist and they're both trapped on either side of me again. 

"I can keep doing this all day, snowflake." The promise makes my gut clench, but I'm no longer in control of my sanity, driven to madness by his torture. "Can you?" 

Suddenly something new. His hands are busy holding mine and no longer usable, so he moves to the next best thing. His cock is still hard, I don't understand how he can deny himself like this. He rotates his hips and settles in between my legs. Thank Gog, I think, hoping this will finally be the end to my torment, glad and ready to take him into my body, but no such luck. The tip of his dick rubs up and down my wet slit, without slipping inside me. He presses down into my pubic mound with his hips, then back to rubbing. I feel like I'll go crazy or kill him, and somehow telling him my name no longer seems like such a danger. The back of my mind protests, but logic is far gone. He's licking my breasts, kneading my fingers, kissing me so I can taste myself on his tongue. I'm losing sight of my goals, becoming malleable, bendable for him, a soft mushy substance that can be whatever he wants. I'm his now, he needs only take from me what he wants. 

"Oh my God, please," I'm begging like a child, high pitched and breathy. "I'm begging you, please." 

"What are you begging for, snowflake?" He slides my arms up and traps my wrists in one hand to free the other. It digs in my hair as he continues to tease me with his cock. He keeps stopping at the entrance, tempting, convincing me he's about to take me, then moves away, leaving me bereft. 

"Please, stop!" I don't even know what I'm saying anymore, I'm so far gone. 

"You want me to stop?" he breathes in my ear, grabbing my lobe between his teeth and running his tongue along my neck. "Tell me your goddamn name." 

I clamp my mouth shut because the word is about to fly out, the one little word that could end my agony. I can't even remember why I'm not supposed to say it, all I know is every fiber of my being is singing, thrumming like a tightly wound chord for release. 

"Say it," his voice is tight, and through my slitted eyes I see his tension. Holding back isn't easy for him either, and the fact tries to make its way to the forefront of my addled brain, but gets lost in the fuzz. His hand is on the side of my face now, my eyes are squeezing shut, my hips are bucking, trying to steal him inside me, to end the burning.  
"Fucking say it!" He shouts, shoving his thumb in my mouth to pry it open and replacing it with his tongue. His kiss is so invasive, so wild, it feels like he's fucking my mouth with his. I can't draw breath, I'm completely trapped in this madness, my whole existence becomes about him, about having him inside me. "Say it, you bitch!" 

"Dia" I scream. "It's Dia Tate!" 

"Thank Christ!" he sighs, and plunges inside me with an intensity I didn't think possible. I break apart in his hands.


	9. A Rock and a Hard Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holder's Perspective.Thanks for the hits and kudos folks! Keep em coming, it makes me want to write more.

I've never seen a woman fall apart under me like that. After the first thrust of my hips she rakes her nails down my back, and I feel the pulsing tightness of her walls closing and moving around me. I'm so wound up I almost finish with her but the feeling is too sweet, I want to make it last a little longer. 

Dia, I think, a bubble of joy growing in my chest, the feeling of a win. Dia Tate is coming down from her world-shattering orgasm beneath me and I'm sitting so still inside her, feeling her muscles clench around me like the coils of a snake. When she finally calms down her dark brown eyes flutter open to look into mine. She sees the victory shining there and turns her head away dismally. She regrets everything, regrets kissing me on the balcony, regrets the arm chair and the alley, regrets screaming out her own name to me only moments ago. Well, I don't aim to give her a lot of time for regrets. 

I start to move and she groans when she feels me. I go slowly at first, learning the ridges and contours of her depths, the angle that makes her head fall back and the muscles in her neck clench. I'm enjoying the sight of her, how her body awakens under my touch, how her hips start to match my rhythm out of instinct, then growing need. I can feel her heart pounding through my chest and her eyes stray down to stare in wonder at the point where we're joined. I've never been this hard in my life, amazed with every stroke I last. 

"Fuck," I moan into her neck, feeling the strength sap from my over-exerted muscles. I speed up my rhythm and just as I feel I'm getting close, Dia's leg snakes around me and she shoves with her left shoulder. In the next instant I'm on my back and she's on top of me, grinding her hips in circles on me. "Jesus," I cry, running my hands up her body to get two good handfuls of her breasts. She's riding me like a prize stallion, changing angles every few strokes, staring into my eyes with wild passion. The sight of her with her halo of auburn curls bouncing on me, is something I will never forget. I drink it in like a man dying of thirst. 

"Come on," she encourages, shoving herself down on me, taking me all the way to the bottom of her depths. I'm so close, my fingers are digging into her hips, following their movements. "Come on, come for me." A wild, desperate look takes over her eyes, I feel her rhythm stutter, start to fail, but I'm too close to stop now. I roll her over on her back and pound into her with an intensity I've never known in myself. I grip her hair in my fist, crane her neck back and bite down hard on the tender flesh of her throat as with one last violent thrust I finish inside her. I draw the skin into my mouth and roll it around my teeth, still driving into her until I feel her clench around me and she screams my name. It's the sweetest sound I've ever heard. 

I'm still in her, leaving a deep, red mark of ownership on her neck when the voice comes from behind me. 

"Holder?"

For a moment I freeze and so does the writhing form under me. Our eyes meet for a second and all I see is panic reflected there. I shrivel up inside her.

"Linden?" I ask, my throat dry as the desert at the sound of her voice. I pull out with more than a little regret and jump out of bed to cover my nakedness. A flush spreads through my body at the sight of Linden's ashen face staring from me to Dia's naked form tangled in my sheets and looking well fucked. Goddamn it, I think, did she have to walk in EXACTLY at that moment?

"What you doing here, Linden?" I ask, scrambling to tug on my jeans and button them. Dia's eyes are scanning the room for her clothes and I see her torn brassiere at Linden's feet. I groan internally with shame. So much for things working out with my partner. How the hell was I going to explain fucking our whacked-out prisoner? And why did her eyes look so glassy and watery? Why did Linden look so crestfallen? 

"You didn't answer your phone," Linden answers, her eyes roaming around the room and taking in the signs of our debauchery like it's a crime scene. I curse myself for having turned the stupid phone off. Why hadn't I imagined that Linden would be desperate to get a hold of me, especially after I stormed out earlier, chasing down the woman she'd just found me screwing? 

I'm trying to formulate some kind of answer when Linden mumbles "Sorry, Holder," and walks out of my apartment. I feel something tear in my chest. The thought of Linden finding me in bed with another woman is embarrassing and more than a little cowing, but the jealousy, the pain I saw in her eyes is my undoing. I don't give a second thought to the woman in my bed as I run after my partner, tugging my shirt on. 

"Yo Linden!" I call to her, catching her just as she's about to get into her car. "Hold up a minute." Her hand freezes on the door but she doesn't turn around. "You okay?" I ask, finally catching up with her. Her back is to me for a minute then she turns around and the look in her eyes is tearful and violent. 

"What the hell are you thinking, Holder?" Her voice sounds like ice, and she's making me feel pretty small. "You don't even know this woman, you don't-"

"What's got you so upset, girl?" The words come out of my mouth before I realize I'm saying them. 

"I'm-" she's clutching her keys to her chest, looking like a cornered animal. Her eyes are looking anywhere but mine and her clearly evasive attitude sparks something in me. 

"What is it?" I reach for her and close my hands around her small shoulders. She feels solid, comfortable. She doesn't jerk away but she's stiff in my arms. I lift her chin so she's looking me in the eyes. "You can tell me the truth." For a moment her mask slips, and I see the real Sarah Linden underneath. She's vulnerable in that second, her eyes burning with what I quickly realize is jealousy. The thought emboldens me and I move closer to her. "For once in your fucking life, tell the truth about how you feel." 

"I-" she tries again, the words catching in her throat. I forget everything, the entire day, Skinner's death, the mysterious woman still lying in my bed, and in this moment all I know is Sarah Linden is standing in front of me, begging to be kissed. I close the space between us and lower my head to hers. The last time I did this, after Bullet died, she'd moved away, hidden her face. This time I don't give her the chance. I grip her face with my hands, trapping her in place and then I'm kissing her and it's like the heavens should be opening up and little fucking angels should be singing. 

I only have a second to enjoy the feel of her against me when I feel a sharp pain in my shins. 

"Ow, dammit girl." Linden pushes me back and I don't see her small fist swing. I take it full in the cheek and though she's only a slip of a thing, she hits like an officer of the law. "Fuck, woman! What the hell was that for?" 

"You piece of shit, Holder!" The tears are streaming down her face and I feel like I missed something. "One minute you're in there with that-that-" she can't even finish the sentence, "then you come out here and try to kiss me?" She brings her face close to mine to spit the next words like an angry viper. "I can fucking taste her on you!" 

With that she gets back into her grey sedan and the tires squeal as she drives away. I'm left standing there in the streetlight, confused and in pain. My shin hurts like a bitch and my face is throbbing from her punch. My muscles are sapped from my extra-curricular activities with Dia and my head is swimming in confusion. These goddamn women, I think again. 

I'm tempted to get in the car and drive off myself, but there's still a woman in my apartment who knows way too much and is saying way too little. My strategy for information extraction is going to have to change, however. The truth is I've loved Linden for a long time, maybe since the first time I told her she's my ride, and I ain't willing to risk all that for a hot piece of pussy. Dia Tate is going to tell me everything she knows, once and for all, and I'm never going to lay a hand on her again. A fluttering feeling in my gut tries to make a liar out of me, but I'm making a promise and I'm sticking to it. Just like I did when I got clean, I gotta give up on something I want because it's good for me. Period. 

I build myself up into quite a huff as I make my way back to the apartment. I'm ready to tell Dia that what happened didn't mean anything to me, that I don't feel anything for her, I might even go as far as to admit how in love with Linden I am, but all those words die in my mouth the minute I enter the bedroom. It's empty. All of her clothes are gone, and the only evidence of her ever having being here is the disheveled bed and the smell of sex still lingering in the air. 

A cold feeling spreads through my limbs which I attribute to thefact that all my secrets are out wandering and I have no idea how to stop them from spreading. The truth is that it's the same feeling I had when I saw her auburn curls slipping out the precinct door. I simply can't imagine never seeing Dia Tate again, especially after today. A rumble begins in my chest like the sound of an old motor starting and I can feel the injection of adrenaline rushing through my veins. My hands clench into fists and I can feel what's left of my human reasoning slip away until I become a machine made for hunting. I slip my leather holster around my chest and button my shirt. I move slowly, methodically. I know she's on foot, and she's probably disoriented, I am certain I'll be able to pick up her trail. I grab my car keys and head out, my whole body thrumming with anticipation. 

This time when I catch her, there will be no weakness, no alleyway trysts or armchair surrenders. She's going to tell me exactly what she's doing here or I'm going to kill her. There is no more gray area. 

I check my sidearm and release the safety. I can't prevent the scowl that stretches across my face or the pounding in my heart. I try to ignore all the images fluttering through my brain, Dia handcuffed, kneeling before me with a wicked look in her eyes, Dia falling to pieces under my touch, Dia riding me with abandon. I push them all away and narrow my focus. Dia isn't going anywhere, I'm going to find her, I'm going to drag her back to my apartment by her hair if I have to, and she's going to tell me the goddamn truth. Then I can finally be over her, exorcise her like an addiction to something unhealthy, and try and make things right with Linden. Most importantly, I'm going to keep my hands off her. Period. 

Yeah.


	10. Further Down the Rabbit Hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dia Tate's choices take her down a dark path. You have been warned.

I absentmindedly rub the spot on my neck and ignore the ache in my core. I'm not quite walking right, Holder's "ministrations" have taken their toll on my body. It's not exactly pain, though I can feel the throbbing in my cervix escalate with each new step. He'd lost it there at the end, drove into me like some wild animal, and at the time I'd welcomed the feeling, but with the lovely glow of consummation gone, all I'm left with is the ache. 

I take another left turn and keep wandering. For the first time in days I'm free, able to make my own choices and go wherever I want, no chains or handcuffs. The feeling should make me happy. Instead, I'm wandering around like a lost sheep searching for my shepherd. Maybe I should go back, I think, running the pad of my fingertips over the sore skin of my neck. The thing would be an ugly bruise by morning, I can't even imagine why it had felt so good at the time. The thought sends heat rushing through me, culminating in my face and head. I stumble a little as the feeling takes over and suddenly I'm there again, beneath him, he's driving into me with such a look in his eye... 

I pull myself back to reality trying to gain some reason. Holder is FICTION, I remind myself, though the glorious ache inside me says different. He belongs with Linden. The thought makes me feel sick, and I see her in my minds eye, staring down at us gray-faced and blank. I wonder if I've done irreparable damage. Will she still go back to Holder in the end? Will things still work out? Or have I changed the course of the story completely? The thought sends a shiver through me. 

I have to get home, I realize. It's the only way to fix all of this mess and bring some sense back into my life. Living in a fictional world can put one off kilter because there is no down time. Something is always happening, the air is always charged with conflict and movement, I assume because otherwise it would be boring. Unfortunately, I'm real, and this is too much for any real person to deal with. Fictional characters are bigger than us, stronger, meaner, more beautiful, angrier, happier, everything they do is elevated to new heights. I just can't keep up. 

I don't hear them around the next corner until I make the turn. I don't even realize where I've wandered in my musings and honestly this place is so alien to me I couldn't have stuck to a direction if I'd wanted. The alley is dark and unfriendly and the four shadows emerge out of the darkness like some horror movie. I feel the sting of apprehension before I see them take shape. There is prickling on my arms and the back of my neck like ants are crawling across me, and my face is so hot I feel like I might faint. This is nothing like the exciting thrill I felt when Holder was chasing me. The animal in me knows there is real danger around. I decide to turn around and walk back the way I came when one of them speaks. 

"Did you need some directions?" 

My whole body is shaking even as I tighten my fists. 

"I'm fine," I answer, my voice surprisingly strong. I hear their footsteps following me and I wonder how long I have been walking. Where have I ended up?

"This is a bad neighborhood to be wandering in after dark," a second voice explains, sickly sweet like honey laced with violence. "Maybe we can walk you home." 

They're getting closer and my heart is pounding. I'm considering taking off in a full speed run when I feel something grab me from behind. 

"Where you running to?" a third man asks, stepping in front of me, as a hand pulls me back by my hair. My heart is hammering now, sensing the danger all around, and my body coils for the spring.

"Get your fucking hands off me!" I shout, pushing at the one in front of me. I feel a few hairs rip out of my skull as a try to twist out of the man's grasp. He's not having any of it and grips me harder. There's four of them and they're herding me like a wild animal into the darkness of a niche. I instinctively feel that light is my ally and I fight to stay within its reach. I draw in a lungful of air to release as a scream when a large hand clamps down on my mouth. I reach up to scratch the fingers with my nails but the two other men grab and pin my hands. I'm twisting like a fish, trying to slither out of their grasp. I sure as fuck am not going to make this easy for them. They'll have to kill me first, I think. Instead of feeling frightened, I feel strong. I'm more aware of my body and my muscles than I have ever been and my mind is clear. I have no room for fear anymore, whatever happens will happen, I just need to know that I fought, fought harder and longer than anyone else has ever fought. That's how I will survive whatever is about to take place. 

They're laughing and joking, poking at my clothes and tugging on me like four cats playing with a wounded bird. I remember I have legs all of a sudden, and as soon as I'm aware of them they begin to move, out of my control. I strike the one in front of me in the groin and he doubles over. I feel the rush of victory but it's too early. My hands are still trapped, but I know for sure that one won't be able to use his equipment for a while. He's not going to touch me. The two on either side of me tug on my arms until I feel like I'm being crucified. The man behind me is still covering my mouth but I feel him behind my ear, breathing into my neck. I take a chance, lean my head forward and bring it back with as much force as I can muster. I feel something tighten in my neck, certain there will be a cramp later. If there is a later, I think. The man behind me squeals like a pig and covers his now bleeding mouth with his hands. This leaves my free to scream, and I do. I only get the chance for one good scream when the guy behind me hisses through bloody teeth. 

"Shut her the fuck up!"

I don't see the fist coming through the darkness but I feel the impact somewhere in my left eye. The pain explodes in my brain like a searing volcano blast, and I hear a loud ringing in my ears. My knees give out and soon I'm being suspended by the arms that are still trapped. They release me and I become a puddle on the ground. Somewhere in my pain-fogged mind I think nature hasn't been fair. Why make it so easy for them to hurt us? Only one strike and we're down for the count, out of the game without hope of rejoining. Why are the scales so unbalanced? 

My thoughts are a jumble when I feel a pain in my stomach like I have never felt. The groan that comes out of my mouth barely sounds human. I feel another in my back and suddenly something inside cracks. The agony takes my breath away, I'm rasping from the shock, trying to draw air into my burning lungs but it's like my throat has closed up. Spots appear behind my eyelids, darker than the black surrounding me. I try to shift into a position that will allow me to breathe but I'm roughly grabbed by the arms and my wrists are pinned above my head. My lungs are still struggling, my whole body fighting for oxygen.

Someone is kneeling between my legs and prying my knees apart. I try to kick out but the lack of air prevents my muscles from clenching. I'm getting so dizzy, everything spins around me and I try desperately to hold on to consciousness. I'm only wearing my fabric shorts I came into this world in, they take no time at all to remove. 

I'd always heard that people leave their bodies during times like these, try and find their happy place. That's not what happens to me. I become hyper-aware of the hands running up my thighs and pressing them apart. The hands are calloused, rough and cold, and I shiver. I want to keep fighting, swore I would, but I feel darkness spreading through my mind. I have only taken a small breath, and my lungs are finally starting to release when I hear the man shout: "Turn her over, I wanna go dirty on this bitch." 

I want to scream but there's not enough air. I'm lifted like a rag doll by many hands and turned over. My legs move feebly like in a nightmare where you hope to run faster but trudge through mud instead. I feel two strong hands grip my buttocks and spread the cheeks apart. "No!" I call out, but the voice comes out as a ragged whisper. I want to shout to the heavens, loud like an ambulance siren, but my own body has betrayed me. Then you take the punishment you stupid thing, I think. 

I feel something pressing against my rectum when I mercifully black out. 

************************************************************************** 

I fire the first shot without thinking. The man behind Dia crumples in on himself, never to rise again. Even in the darkness, my bullet strikes the thick bone of his skull. I feel nothing but rage. The big man who had been about to shove his ugly prick inside her ass is half laying on her now, dripping blood all over the back of her shirt. The one holding her hands jumps up in an attempt to flee but I tighten my fingers twice and he too joins his pal on the ground. The other two are already halfway down the street but my legs are longer and I have the speed of a police officer. I catch them quickly and put them down without remorse. This is a neighborhood known for gang violence, and my secondary gun is unregistered and untraceable. I feel a rush of adrenaline as I take in the four dark forms that are my kill. Something primal in my gut grunts in satisfaction. 

I kick the big man off her, watching his limp dick flop sideways on the side of his thigh. By the size of it, she would have felt it if it had gotten that far. I thank whatever is above us that I heard her scream. 

She's completely out, unconscious and not moving. She makes a small mewling sound when I lift her in my arms but does not awaken. I cradle her like a small child against me and feel something taking root in my chest. It's warm and uncomfortable and makes it hard to breathe. When I think about what almost happened, I feel like going back and shooting the corpses again, just for good measure. 

As I carry the limp frame of Dia Tate to my car and strap her into the back seat, I know somehow that my life will never again be the same after meeting her. Things have changed, shifted in a permanent way, and somehow I am not as certain of my life as I used to be. I've never felt this way. Even with Linden everything seemed just right, like it was moving in the right direction, even if it was moving slow. Now my journey is uncertain, foggy and unclear, and somehow no longer in my control. 

The feeling is unnerving and uncomfortable, but I push it out of my mind. Of course my life is my own, who else would it belong to? I sneak a glance at the resting form in the back seat through the rear view mirror and feel that apprehension again. 

What if everything she's been saying is true?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Linden and Holder smut in the next chapter. Looking to finish this one off in fourteen chapters, but it's not the end of Dia Tate. Please comment below and let me know what story you would like her to invade next!


	11. Champion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holder asks Linden for help with Dia's injuries. Linden stakes her claim.

I lay Dia onto the bed as slowly as I can. She looks like a bird that's been run over. Her breathing is shallow and ragged and I'm considering taking her to the hospital. The problem is, she's going to be really hard to explain. On the drive here I'd done some research on my on-board computer, but Dia Tate was a ghost. Either she had lied to me, which was doubtful under the extreme circumstances, or someone had erased any trace of her from the record. How am I supposed to take her to the hospital without a drivers license? 

I look down at her, resting comfortably on the white sheets she had only a couple of hours ago been writhing on. I gingerly lift the shirt from her torso and a dark fury takes over my mind. The bruising is fucking awful, and I can tell just by the look of it that one of her ribs is cracked. The tender skin under her eye has split open and is leaking a trail of blood down her cheek. I see the bruising blossom there. She's going to look like hell tomorrow, I realize. 

My hand is moving even before I give it permission and the number is dialed from memory. I'm sure she won't answer, but to my surprise she does. 

"What the fuck do you want, Holder?" Linden's voice sounds like a razor blade. 

"I need you," is all I can mange to answer. I don't know how Linden will feel about helping the woman I was just banging, but at this point, this is bigger than our petty bullshit. 

"You've got some nerve, you-" she gears up for a string of insults but I cut her off. 

"Look, I helped you with Ski-with you know what. Now I need your help. This ain't got anything to do with us." 

She doesn't answer for a long time, and I know it's hard for her to owe anyone anything. I've played the right card. 

"Fine," she finally spits out with more than a little disdain, "I'll be over in a few minutes. Tell that tramp to put her clothes on." 

I don't have time to refute her claims when she hangs up on me. I put the phone back in my pocket and light a cigarette to calm my shaking hand. Dia is still out, but she's stirring. I go to the bathroom and get the First-Aid kit from the medicine cabinet. I pull out bandages, tape, disinfectant and gauze, spreading them out on a clean white towel. I grab a pair of scissors from my nightstand and start to cut away my Led Zepplin t-shirt from Dia's body. I try not to think about how I had wished this would go, earlier, when things were still mostly a fantasy and I didn't yet know what it was like to be buried deep inside her. I'd wanted to cut her clothes off then, but for a very different reason. 

By the time I've cut away all her outer clothes and left her in only her panties, my hands are shaking. her bra was still on my floor, torn into pieces, so she'd never had a chance to get rid of it. Somehow, with how beat up she looks now, I feel ashamed of the marks I left on her. The red around her wrists from the cuffs, my fingertips etched out in faint bruises on her hips, the dark mark growing ever darker on the pale flesh of her neck, I hate myself for all of these. Now that they are paired with the abuse, they don't seem so attractive. I had wanted to mark her, I realize, leave some part of myself on her as a claim, probably why I finished inside her too. But now, it just seems stupid, and painful. 

I run a fingertip across the mark and my fist clenches. 

I hear the door and wonder how long I'd been standing there like an idiot, staring at her broken form. It would have taken Linden at least twenty minutes to get here, so it must have been a while. I step back from the bed and go into the living room where I find an angry and red-eyed Sarah Linden. She looks like she would rather be anywhere else in the world. 

"What do you need?" She asks, her tone clipped and short. 

I want to explain everything, tell her I love her, tell her what she had seen was only a moment of weakness, but the words die in my mouth. Instead I indicate to the bedroom and she raises her eyebrow in response. 

"I didn't draw a number," she spits, "is it my turn for a ride?" The words cut me deep and I can feel my temper stir. I cross to Linden and grab her roughly by the elbow, dragging her protesting form behind me into the bedroom. "Fucking let go, Holder-"

The words die in her mouth when she sees Dia Tate's bloody body turning my immaculate sheets red. Linden stops fighting me and rushes to her side, taking her wrist to check for a pulse. "What the hell did you do, Holder?" 

I'm actually offended, hurt that she would think I would do something like this, but there's no time to sort it out. "She ran when I came after you. Got caught by some gangbangers down the street." Linden looks horrified. 

"Did they..." she lets the question trail off. 

"No," I answer, feeling my gut churning at the thought, "I got there just in time." 

"What did you do with them?" she asks. I don't answer, and she nods. I'm glad she trust me enough to not ask about the bodies. "Well it looks like she has a broken rib, maybe two. And this cut needs cleaning." Linden gets to work, using me as her nurse. Together we use a small capsule of liquid stitches to close the cut under Dia's eye and bandage it with gauze. We tape her ribs as best as we can and once I've stripped the sheets from under her, we let Dia Tate sleep. 

I toss the sheets into the washer, feeling rather proud of myself and turn back to the kitchen where Linden is waiting, clearly anxious to leave. 

"Cup of coffee?" I ask, feeling so drained I'm not sure how I'm still moving. 

"I think I should go," she retorts, clearly still pissed. She walks past me but my hand moves on its own to wrap around her wrist and keep her in place. She looks at me with wide, blue eyes, the fire in her hair burning like a crown. She looks so beautiful it takes my breath away. I feel strange, compelled, like this is my destiny standing in front of me. I know that to lose it would condemn me to an eternity of loneliness. 

"I'm standing right here, Linden," I say, hardly recognizing my own voice. I push off the counter and close the space between us. "I'm standing right in front of you." 

"So what?" she asks, though she doesn't tear her wrist from my grip. 

"So just spit it out," I answer, sounding tired. "Be pissed, yell, tell me I'm a fucking idiot, but do SOMETHING!" My voice is louder than I mean it to. 

"Doesn't matter to me who you fuck, Holder," she answers, a dark look crossing her face. "Why should it." 

Something stirs in my gut, some manly, primal desire to prove my worth as a mate. I don't understand it, I don't try to explain it, I just follow its impulse. I cross the small space between us and dig my large hand into Linden's mane of red hair. It feels so glorious I almost feel tears springing to life. So long since I've wanted to hold her, touch her, make her mine. Now she's trapped, her hair in my fingers her wrist in my hand, I've got her, and I don't ever want to let go. 

"Let go of me, Holder," she says carefully, growing still. I don't listen. I try to pull her closer but her arm flies up and suddenly I feel a sharp pain in my gut where her elbow strikes. She didn't put all she had into it, I know because I can still draw breath. My hands slip and suddenly she's out of my grasp and crossing to the door. I only know desperation. 

Before she can turn the handle I'm on her, slamming my fists into the door on either side of her, and pressing my self against her back to trap her. Her body radiates heat, and I can feel it all down my length. She doesn't struggle and she says nothing. I dip my head and inhale the scent of her hair, running my cheek against its silky texture. I her her breath hitching, and her hands curl into fists. 

"I think it does matter to you," I goad, pulling the hair from her shoulder to expose her neck to me. "I think you care very much about who I fuck." 

The energy coming off her is overwhelming and it only gets more intense when I feel her stiffen. She's angry. Angry that I'm right, and my heart does a strange dance inside my chest. 

I run my lips against the soft skin of her neck and think I could die happy if only I could hear Sarah Linden scream my name in ecstasy. I'm so hard it's painful and I wonder at how much my body can take. I've already cum twice tonight, and yet being so close to Linden I'm like granite again. Sarah moves just a fraction, letting out an almost silent sigh as my tongue brushes across her freckles and she tilts her head just a tad to give me more room. It's the only invitation I needed. 

My hands turn frantic, terrified of losing their golden opportunity. I run them up the front of her body and she's pressing her ass into my erection in a way that makes me wild. I grip her hips and rub against her, receiving a satisfying moan in return. My fingers move quickly, running down the front of her body, to unsnap her button and pull down her pants. She presses her hands against the white door, and makes the most ungodly sounds of pleasure. They're enough to make a man crazy. 

I yank down her pants and her dark blue panties come with them. I want to keep that scrap of lace as a memento, but I doubt she would let me. I am so impatient for her I can't wait. I know I should take my time, bring her slowly to where I need to, but I'm like a teenage boy again. From instinct I know this precious gift comes with a ticking clock and if I give Linden enough time she'll run, that's her game. I don't mean to give her a chance. 

I fumble with my pants with my left hand, as my right hand reaches down between her legs from behind. When I touch her she curses, pressing herself into my fingers in such a wanton way. She's so goddamn wet, I've never felt anything like it, and I can't believe I haven't even kissed her yet. She hasn't turned around, her face is pressed against the door, and her breathing is shallow and labored. I think about slowing down for a moment when the demand comes.

"Just fuck me, Holder," she pleads, the words short-circuiting my brain. "Fuck me now!"

I don't have to be asked a third time. I release my cock from my jeans, and Linden arches her back to give me some room. I grab her hips and thank whatever gods decided to give me this incredible gift as I plunge into her like an Olympic diver. Linden slams her fist into the door in rhythm with my pounding, pushing into me with determined force. 

"Oh God, woman," I cry, arching my hips up to fill her as much as I can. I pound into her like a wild man, and we're both grunting like rutting animals. I run my hands up her front, under her insufferable sweater to grab two strong handfuls of her breasts. She's banging the side of her face into the door every time I push into her, and her hands have turned to claws against the frame. I feel like a champion, like I just won the race, and Linden is my trophy. My hands can's stop touching her, kneading her breasts. Then I make the mistake of looking down at what I'm doing. The sight is almost enough to drive me over the edge. 

Linden's perfect ass is bouncing against me, her face is red and panting, whispering my name between thrusts. I pull my hands out from under her sweater and knead her ass cheeks with them instead. The stronger grip on her hips brings us both to new heights and I know I can't hold out longer. 

"Oh fuck," she cries, her fingers curling so tight around the door frame they turn white. "Oh God, I'm gonna cum!" The words sound so fucking hot coming from her lips, I can feel the tightness in my groin signaling the end. "Oh God, yes!" 

She pushes back against me so hard, I almost fall back. Instead I drive into her, feeling her walls closing around me, tightening as she rides through the orgasm. "Wait!" she cries, realizing I'm about to finish, and I know she's going to ask me to pull out. I ignore her plea and drive deep into her one last time, shouting her name as I cum inside her. 

It takes us both a moment to come back down to earth, and I still haven't pulled out of her. I'm still looking down at the glory that is a recently fucked Linden when she shoves against me roughly. Her breathing is still ragged but she pulls her pants back up and buttons them. I can't even begin to move, much less operate heavy machinery like buttons right now. I'm in complete awe of how this turned out, and more than a little smug and satisfied. 

Linden turns to me and gives me a trademark scowl. I know the words that are going to come out of her mouth before she says them. 

"This never happened," she spits like an angry snake, and stomps out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her. I'm not fazed. After a few moments of standing there like a wide-grinning idiot, I step out of my pants and leave them on the floor. I grab a glass of ice water and head to my bedroom where Dia Tate is still unconscious. I'm not sure when I got so lucky to get two beautiful women throwing themselves at me all in one night, but I ain't looking a gift horse in the mouth. 

I tumble into my side of the bed and am asleep before my head hits the pillow.

**Author's Note:**

> This was just a trial story. I am going to do a series with this original female character as she invades some of my favorite stories and alters their course. First up on the list is Harry Potter, then the True Blood Series. .  
> Would love to hear your thoughts!


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